His Untamed Rose novel Chapter 60

Her voice cracked with fury as she screamed. The little girl in Yael’s arms let out a sharp, terrified wail.

Yael tried desperately to soothe his daughter, but his anger finally got the better of him. He shot to his feet.

“That’s right! You’ve long since ceased to be a daughter of the Jardin family! You ought to take a hard look at yourself and all that you’ve done! You caused your brother’s death, and now you’ve hurt your mother like this.

What am I supposed to think? Let you go on and hurt my family again?

Never. Lumina, stay away from us—far away! The further, the better! You were nothing but a curse on this family from the moment you were born. I never want to see you again!”

The child in his arms shrieked even louder, probably because, in her memory, her father had always been gentle and dependable—never had she seen him lose his temper like this.

Yet after being berated like that, Lumina only smiled. Not a single tear would come, not now. She felt the last patch of solid ground she’d clung to in her heart crumble and fall away.

“I thought… if you were willing to see me, maybe you’d finally let go of what happened all those years ago. Maybe there was a chance for us to reconcile… How foolish of me.”

Lumina backed away slowly until she hit the wall, her voice hollow and hopeless. “One mistake, and I’m condemned for life. That’s not fair. I just wanted a family, that’s all.”

In that moment, whatever fragile bond remained between father and daughter was severed completely.

And Lumina knew, from that instant on, she could never go back to the Jardin home. She had parents, but she was an orphan all the same.

That night, Lumina couldn’t remember how she left. Most likely, Yadiel was the one who brought her home.

He spoke gently to her the entire way, trying to comfort her, but Lumina never replied—not a single word.

When they arrived, Yadiel settled her on the bed and sat quietly by her side for a long time.

...

Days passed, and Lumina barely moved. She curled up in bed, listless and silent.

Yadiel visited on schedule, bringing meals and hearty soup, but she never touched any of it. She just lay there, like a soulless shell.

Even when Yadiel tried to draw back the curtains, Lumina would burrow under her covers, shunning the daylight.

She sat up in bed, stunned to see Cedric sitting in the sun-drenched spot by her window, his handsome features impassive.

He was bathed in golden light, looking every bit like a figure from another world—confident, radiant, almost divine.

Something about the sight of him made her heart race uncontrollably. She didn’t know if it was the long darkness she’d endured or the sudden glare of sunlight, but as she gazed at him, her eyes stung with tears and her nose burned. The urge to cry crept up on her.

Cedric noticed her flushed face, her hazel eyes glazed and unfocused, glimmering with unshed tears.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her cry.

She’d always been so strong, so fiercely independent—never showing weakness in front of him. It reminded him of the first time they met, when she was so fragile, so lost.

Suddenly, he realized something was wrong. The hard edge in his expression softened as he leaned in. “What happened?”

His fingertips brushed away the tears at the corner of her eye, then he pressed his hand to her forehead—and found she was burning up with fever.