My Pretty Sweetheart (Arianna)
Chapter 874

I wanted to cry but I couldn't do it. The child was called Callum, a name given by Irvin, he no surname was given. His tomb was placed in the south.

The child's picture on the tombstone was blurred while the front of the tomb was covered in weed.

I squatted in front of the tomb and started cleaning the surrounding mess.

Leaning my forehead against the tomb, I smiled faintly. "I'm sorry, my child for only being here now."

I had been avoiding this for so many years. I thought I could get over it, but I couldn't.

Next to me, someone was sobbing quietly. It was a woman who was in her thirties.

I cast a sideways glance at the tombstone in front of her. It was the tomb of a middle-aged woman. It was probably her mother.

There was nothing I could say to comfort her. I remained quiet, watched her cry, and felt an emptiness in my heart. Why didn't I have any tears to cry?

After a while, the woman stopped crying. When she noticed me, she was slightly stunned. She said in a hoarse voice, "You..."

I smiled faintly, "I'm here to visit my child!"

When she glanced sideways, she took a look at the picture on the tombstone. Although the picture was not in the best condition, she could tell that it was a child. After a slight pause, she asked, "How old was he?" "Full-term!" Or perhaps a little older.

She looked at me with reddened eyes, "Life is truly too short."

I didn't say anything and kept my gaze lowered.

When I left the cemetery, the woman hadn't left yet. It seemed that she didn't want to.

She told me a story about a girl, an eight-year-old child. She had a happy family - parents and a younger brother. The four of them lived a good life together. However, extreme happiness

would sometimes bring sorrow. Disaster fell upon them and took her father away. Her mother could not bear the sorrow, so she remarried, taking her brother with her while she was tossed into her grandmother's care.

Her grandma was a fortune teller who made meagre income through fortune-telling. Her presence made her grandmother's already pessimistic life took a turn for the worse.

Therefore, her grandmother took out all the pain and suffering in her life on her through abuse and torture. As a young girl, she made the harsh and helpless decision to end her life in front of her father's grave.

As she shared these with me, I was in complete shock. I didn't understand why she would say something like this to a stranger like me.

Though I was stunned, I didn't think much about it.

Andoland was not my home, after all. I only came to visit my child.

I went back to the apartment and took a long nap. In my dream, I saw my child waving and bidding goodbye to me.

With tears brimming in my eyes, I cried and woke up from my dream. I couldn't sleep any longer.

My memory was torn apart, and I was in so much pain.

The next day.

When I went downstairs to buy breakfast, I heard the owner of the bakery chatting with her husband.

"A young girl ended her life last night at Longevity Cemetery. What a pity." The owner said, solemnity heavy in her voice.

Her husband replied nonchalantly, "Don't listen to that nonsense."

She raised her voice and said, "It's true. I saw someone post about it on Facebook in the morning. It isn't on the news yet, but I'm sure that it will be in a while."

Her husband sighed, brushing her off as being paranoid.

The couple had a tacit understanding of how they operated at work. One of them was to pack buns for customers while the other manned the cashier.

When I returned to the apartment, I finally saw the news about the woman who ended her life by slashing her wrists.