His Untamed Rose novel Chapter 31

After tidying up, Lumina didn’t linger. She had work the next day. She and Cedric slipped into the car together.

Something had shifted in Cedric’s mood halfway through dinner; he’d grown quiet, his gaze fixed on the darkness outside, his reflection in the window tinged with cold detachment.

The narrow street was a one-way, so the driver had to go forward before looping around. The car crawled along, headlights barely cutting through the night. Yet Lumina recognized every building, every tree, as if her memory had mapped them all out a thousand times before.

She leaned her cheek against the cold glass, silently watching the world slip by. Her fingers tightened, white-knuckled, around the door handle. Without realizing it, her eyes grew hot, rimmed with red.

When they reached that all-too-familiar iron gate, Lumina finally broke her silence. “Could you stop the car for a moment?”

The driver startled, stomping on the brakes, and shot her a curious look in the rearview mirror.

Cedric caught her expression and said nothing. He simply told the driver to wait, then stepped out with her.

Tonight, the breeze was unusually gentle. Lumina walked toward the iron gate, bathed in moonlight.

On the rusty number plate, her own childish handwriting was still visible: a crooked “Jardin,” scratched there years ago when she’d first learned to write.

She pulled a prepared envelope from her pocket—inside was two thousand dollars. She slipped it into the mailbox, knowing her mother checked there every morning for the newspaper.

Behind the gate, the house glowed with warm lights; voices drifted out in bursts.

Lumina crouched down, hugging her knees under the porchlight. Her shadow stretched long and lonely across the stone path.

She couldn’t bring herself to step any closer. It felt as though an invisible barrier shimmered before her, and on the other side lived a warm, happy world she could never enter again.

Cedric stood silently nearby, his eyes unreadable in the dim light.

Suddenly, footsteps sounded from inside. It was Lumina’s mother, Tiana.

“Honey, I’m taking Corinne to the market for a walk—helps with digestion. You do the dishes, all right?”

Lumina froze, scrambling to her feet to hide, but pins and needles shot through her legs—she stumbled, almost collapsing.

A strong arm caught her around the waist, pulling her into a warm, pine-scented embrace. Cedric turned, holding her close, leading her into the shadows beside the gate.

By the time Lumina realized what had happened, she was pressed against Cedric’s chest. Their bodies fit tightly together. Her ragged breath and pounding heart gradually matched his.

“Seven years...”

A bitter laugh escaped her, shaking with heartbreak. “They haven’t cared whether I lived or died. I guess to them, I stopped being their daughter a long time ago. They’ve already moved on.”

In that moment, Lumina knew with painful clarity. She would never return to the Jardin family. Her parents would never again welcome her as their child.

Cedric just watched her quietly.

This woman who’d always been so proud, so unyielding, was now on her knees, clutching her chest in agony. No matter how strong or independent she’d been all these years, now she was nothing more than a lost orphan.

Cedric’s own chest tightened. He reached out to help her up. “Don’t waste your tears on people who never cared about you. They’re not worth it.”

But Lumina only doubled over, sobbing harder. Suddenly, she pressed a trembling hand to her stomach, her face twisting in pain. “It hurts... it hurts so much...”

Cedric’s expression darkened. He scooped her up in his arms, and his hand came away wet.

In the dim glow, he looked down and saw a spreading, terrifying stain of blood.