Resent Reject Regret by Aqua Summers
Resent Reject, Regret By Aqua Summers Chapter 201

Chapter 201 A Bawling Child

She finally got to let out the chest-wringing breath she had been holding in since Bliss' death. She had felt it-the puppy pushing its face close to hers, whimpering with her as she sobbed. It was consoling her. She imagined that was what Bliss would have done too.

Deirdre cast her eyes to the ground. The storm clouds that had seemed to be permanent on her mien faded, and Brendan was the sole witness of her subtle transformation.

While he managed to observe Deirdre's change, he was blind to his own. The trademark severity in his visage had softened into meek, wistful joy.

They walked for a while until, suddenly, Deirdre stopped. Brendan almost lost her, but he paused and turned around. "What's wrong?"

She scanned her surroundings with a frown. "A child's crying."

"A child?" Brendan was a little surprised. They were at the fork of a busy street flooded with couples and office workers going about their day. There was not a single child in sight.

"Could it be some kind of hallucination?"

"No, I'm sure of it!" Deirdre bit her lip. "It's definitely the sound of a kid crying!"

Her senses had adapted to the disadvantage of her sight through evolved hearing acuity. "It sounds muffled, but it's definitely nearby!"

Brendan perused his surroundings until, finally, he stared at the car next to them and inhaled sharply. A baby-about a year old at most-was locked inside. She was bathed in sweat as she bawled, her skin an unnatural shade of pink-red.

"In here! A baby's locked in a car!" He described the situation to her.

Deirdre's anxiety turned into panic. She leaned close to the window and heard the baby's cries amplify. She could tell the child was running out of strength, and her face paled. "I don't think the baby could hang in there much longer, Brendan! Do you see the parents around?"

"No." Brendan removed his cardigan and wrapped it around his elbow. He motioned to Deirdre, telling her to step aside, and hurled a jab at the window.

Deirdre could tell how hard the window was based on the resulting sound. Her heart skipped a beat. "C- Can't we find a brick or something? You'll hurt your arm!"

"There's no time."

All Brendan saw was the baby and how... young she was.

Their unborn kid would have been about the same age as she was had he...

God. His fecklessness had caused a young life to die before. He would not forgive himself if he let the same thing happen again in his life.

He gritted his teeth, aimed at the center of an emerging crack, and rammed his elbow against the window a few more times. Finally, it caved under the pressure, and the baby's muffled cries blared at them like a shrill call for help.

Brendan picked the baby up and passed it to Deirdre. "The air inside this car must have been running low," he remarked. "The child was starting to have trouble breathing, which is why she was bawling. You

calm

her."

Deirdre brought the child close to her chest gingerly-almost a little frightfully. Strangely enough, the baby stopped crying as soon as she leaned her head against her bosom. She began to drool in groggy fatigue.

Brendan was trying to cover his bleeding arm when he saw them. The color in his eyes died a little as his mind raced with all sorts of emotions. He willed himself to rise above his mental furor and commented, Looks like the baby likes you. She's about to fall asleep."

"Is she?" Deirdre echoed, her shoulders slumping a little, just like her spirit. "M-Must be a coincidence. She must be tired after crying for so long. Honestly, though?" She laughed self-deprecatingly. "She's a brave baby, isn't she? Didn't even burst into tears after seeing my face."

Brendan furrowed his brows. "What's wrong with your face? It's still beautiful."

They both stiffened.

The corner of Deirdre's lips went up ever so slightly. "What's the matter with you? You haven't been acting like yourself today."

Or rather, he had not been acting like Brendan Brighthall.

Brendan would be hard-pressed to mention his nightmare, nor would he have the courage to confess to the whirlwind of conflicting emotions warring in his mind. As if to overcompensate for his softer attitude, he said coldly, "I was just telling the truth."