Novel & Cerita Happy Tears Handkerchief

The next thing Clifford did was spread the handkerchief in front of me. The corner of my eyes quickly warmed up. Especially when I got hold of the handkerchief. When my tears fell, I just closed my eyes and immediately stuck the handkerchief to my face. "Oh, my God..." I feel now that I am the happiest person in the world. Because this handkerchief is very important to me. I cried all the time and lost my mind about Clifford. Until I felt him hug me. I cried even more. I do not know. It seems my heart is saying something that I have returned to my home. That's the feeling.

I want to speak and ask her what's wrong but I got no strength left. I stared at my left hand and then I got it. I gazed at Tim just to see he's looking at the handkerchief, too. I noticed how his Adam's apple moved when he gulped. His eyes stayed at it as if he couldn't believe what he saw. I closed my eyes and tears streamed down as the image of it kept playing in my head. I looked at the handkerchief again hoping it would disappear. But, it's still there. The blood. It didn't disappeared.

I asked, testing him. He shrugged, but his eyes stayed locked on mine. “Then I drive you wherever you want to go. No hard feelings. But you’ll always wonder what could’ve happened if you’d fought back.” Damn him, he knew exactly where to press. I looked down at my hands, still clutching the damp handkerchief he’d given me earlier. It was such a small, old-fashioned thing, but it felt like the only solid thing in my world right now. Tears pricked at my eyes again, but I blinked them back. I was tired of crying.

I know what he’s capable of. Three minutes of endless crying later, I lean back and give him a wobbly smile. “I’m fine now. I’m okay. I’m sure I look like a mess.” His eyes gleam with worry as he retrieves a pure white cotton handkerchief from his pocket. I stand very still, shocked to my bones, as he cleans my face with gentle, measured strokes. Gosh, I hope my mascara was waterproof. When he’s finally convinced that I look better, Bhyron folds the stained handkerchief right back into his pocket without a word of complaint.

I've been crying without even realizing it, tears streaming down my face as five years of buried grief and longing finally break free. Tristan pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and holds it out to me. I stare at it for a moment, then at him, before taking it carefully. Our fingers don't touch, I'm not ready for that kind of contact yet, but the gesture is so kind, so perfectly Tristan, that it makes me cry harder.

I rubbed my other cheek even though the tears just kept flowing into my eyes. "The sadness is that in the four corners of our house, I see nothing but those memories of us that were happy when you and Mommy were still alive, those memories that I also know that I will never be able to bring back, because it is already very impossible." "It doesn't suit to the brave like you to cry." From Daddy’s grave and the handkerchief in front of me I looked up and was surprised to see Clarkson standing from my side and looking away. I handed the handkerchief to him and wiped my tears with it. From my seat I stood up.

When I had a glimpse of what it was, I saw that he handed me a handkerchief from the packet of the suit he was wearing. “Wipe your face.” Gunther voiced. “I can't stand seeing your tears any longer.” I immediately accepted the handkerchief that he offered with a soft chuckle and I wiped it on my damp cheeks and eyes as well as some of the parts of my face that had dried tears already.

I didn’t like this, not when I still had to drive home. “Right…yes…that must be it.” He takes a step closer, pulling something out of his inner jacket pocket before handing it out to me. A handkerchief. “Take it, I don’t need it.” He offers. “Thanks, I can get this back to you.” I place the smooth cloth in my hands, the initials TS embroidered in gold stitching. “Please don’t.” He chuckles out as I place it to my lips. It felt good, the softness of the cloth was slightly cool as I tab it against my forehead and on the back of my neck.

I didn't want anyone to see the face of Alpha Alex's wife in such an unbecoming state. After a few steps, a handkerchief was thrust in my direction. Who was it? I didn't dare look. I kept my head lowered, ignoring the proffered handkerchief. In this day and age, who carried around handkerchiefs? I assumed it was an elderly person taking pity on me. I was about to continue on my way when unexpectedly, a hand caught mine and slipped the handkerchief into my grasp. A voice followed, "Take it. Wipe your tears. You should still look beautiful."

"That should be enough to excuse us for the night." Andreas gave me a small nod of approval, then reached into his pocket and handed me a handkerchief. The simple, almost gentlemanly gesture made something in my chest tighten. I took it from him, wiping the tears that clung stubbornly to my cheeks. The fabric was soft against my skin, carrying the faint scent of his cologne—a scent that, moments ago, had made my head spin with desire. Now, it only filled me with guilt and shame.