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Chapter 310

作者: Lady-Noir
last update publish date: 2026-08-08 21:18:04

The atmosphere in the dining room of the Ashford residence instantly froze. Aurora’s words, pouring out amid her streams of tears, still echoed loudly, leaving behind a thick and heavy silence. Calvin stared at his biological daughter with eyes filled with guilt and profound sadness. He understood all too well how deep the wound Aurora had carried after growing up for ten years without a father by her side.

Camelia held Calvin’s fingers beneath the table, trying to comfort her husband, while Da
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  • His Regret Began When I Abandoned Him   386

    Time had its own mysterious way of healing wounds. Year after year passed, bringing with them winds of change that swept away the remnants of sorrow from the corners of the Ashford family’s main residence. The walls of the magnificent house no longer held echoes of silence or restrained sobs. Instead, they were filled with the steady sound of footsteps, bright laughter, and the warmth of life that had once again begun to pulse in its entirety.On the back terrace overlooking Camelia’s beloved rose garden, the middle-aged woman sat relaxing in a teakwood rocking chair. She was no longer young, yet the graceful lines on her face seemed to shine even more clearly, accompanied by a peaceful glow that had never faded from her eyes. On the small table beside her sat a bowl of warm chamomile tea, sending up thin wisps of steam alongside a sketchbook belonging to her daughter-in-law.The light footsteps of someone wearing house slippers could be heard approaching

  • His Regret Began When I Abandoned Him   385

    Dusk began casting golden-orange hues across the capital’s sky, reflecting beautifully against the large glass windows on the second floor of the Ashford family’s main residence. A gentle evening breeze drifted through the house, carrying in the fragrant scent of the tuberose flowers planted in the side garden, blending with a familiar warmth that had not visited this grand house for such a long time.Inside the master bedroom, Camelia stood before a vanity framed with intricately carved mahogany wood. The middle-aged woman wore a soft sage-green cotton house dress, while her long hair was neatly combed and left to fall naturally over her shoulders. Her reflection in the mirror looked far fresher than it had several weeks ago, when the shadows of the hospital and profound grief still haunted her days. That wound would never completely disappear; the traces of losing her twin babies remained carved into a corner of her heart as a silent memory. Yet the greatest sto

  • His Regret Began When I Abandoned Him   384

    The morning sky at the end of that weekend stretched wide without a single dark cloud, allowing the sunlight to stream through the massive glass walls on the mezzanine level of the Grand Chapel of St. Jude. The interior of the magnificent chapel was filled with the fragrance of hundreds of white avalanche roses and eucalyptus stems arranged in cascading displays along the sacred altar. The gentle melody of Canon in D, performed by a professional string quartet, flowed softly through the air, creating an atmosphere so sacred and moving that anyone who heard it could feel its solemnity.In the front row of guest seats, Camelia sat beside Calvin. The middle-aged woman looked elegant in a classic long evening dress in dusty lilac, accented with delicate pearl embroidery around the collar, perfectly complementing the tailored-fit navy suit worn by her husband. There were no traces of tension or an icy wall between them anymore; throughout the week of rushed wedding pre

  • His Regret Began When I Abandoned Him   383

    A gentle night breeze blew softly through the lush trees in the backyard of the Chandler residence. The glow of the pillar lights reflected faintly across the paved courtyard, creating a peaceful atmosphere that contrasted sharply with the turmoil that had been raging inside Camelia’s mind.Inside the spacious guest bedroom on the second floor of the house, the middle-aged woman stood before a large mirror framed with carved mahogany wood. She wore a long camel-colored coat over a loose-fitting nightdress, while her long hair fell naturally around her shoulders without any particular styling. Her face looked pale, bearing the remnants of the physical and mental exhaustion that had plagued her for the past several weeks.The firm and piercing words from Ziyi and Juna several hours earlier continued to echo through her mind, completely wearing down the walls of ego and anger she had painstakingly built. Camelia realized a bitter truth that she could no long

  • His Regret Began When I Abandoned Him   382

    The large wrought-iron gate of the Chandler family’s main residence slowly opened, allowing a black sedan to glide into the spacious, smoothly paved courtyard. The warm yellow garden lights reflected across the hood of the car, revealing a grand yet strangely desolate and empty atmosphere in the courtyard that night.Calvin slowly stepped out from behind the wheel. He opened the rear trunk, lifted out his black leather suitcase, then closed the trunk again with a soft thud that broke the silence of the night. Every step toward the main entrance felt incredibly heavy, as though the shoes on his feet were bound by invisible lead. The images of his children crying hysterically on the staircase of the main residence earlier still spun vividly through his mind, leaving an unbearable ache in his chest.As the large mahogany door was opened by the Chandler family’s head butler, Calvin was greeted by the grand yet seemingly deserted interior of the old house. Ziy

  • His Regret Began When I Abandoned Him   381

    The afternoon breeze blew gently, slipping through the gap of the master bedroom window at the Ashford residence, which had been left open by half an inch. The temperature inside the room felt unbearably stuffy, filled with the remnants of heavy breaths and a long silence that seemed to have no end.In the corner of the room, near the large teakwood wardrobe, Calvin stood upright in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The middle-aged man held a pitch-black leather suitcase on the marble floor. One by one, he folded his work clothes with slow but steady movements, placing them into the suitcase without making a sound.Every time a piece of folded fabric passed through his hands, his chest rumbled as he suppressed an unbearable tightness. For weeks, he had tried every method he knew. He had knelt, cried, begged for forgiveness, and remained by the bedside even though his presence was treated as if it did not exist. Yet all he received in

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