My parents gave their lives to protect Felix and me. That year, I lost my father, who planted sunflowers for me, and my mother, who loved me dearly. Of course, his mother died too, but he wasn't upset in the slightest and couldn't understand my grief. After that, I never painted Felix's portrait again. At first, I blamed him. I blamed him for taking away the home I had and trapping me in my own world, unwilling to step out. I resented him for taking me from my grandmother, locking me away in his house, and later even using my grandmother to force me into marriage with him. In those years, Felix loved me deeply. I tried to convince myself to keep going, to forgive him, because, at that time, he was just an innocent child. Every time I felt like giving up, I would go to the garden and look at the sunflowers, drawing flowers on the wall that would never wither. But later, as I tried to hold on, Darcy's arrival destroyed everything. Or maybe it was Felix who destroyed it all. He de
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