Sorry for Your Loss, It's Me, I'm the Loss novel Chapter 298

Hans was a truly obedient and sensible child. He didn’t fuss or make a fuss, and he wasn't demanding. Listening to Yvonne read him stories, he quickly drifted off to sleep.

Once she saw he was asleep, Yvonne gently tucked him in and tiptoed out of the room.

Sandra didn’t return until the next morning.

She arrived just as Hans was waking up, helped him get washed and dressed, and then took him down to the buffet restaurant for breakfast.

Hans’s family was not well-off, and his daily life was very simple. He had never seen so many exquisite and delicious foods before, and his eyes lit up.

Sandra got him a slice of chocolate cake and a bowl of seafood porridge.

Yvonne joined them at the table.

“You don’t have any scenes this morning?” Sandra asked, getting some vegetables and fruit for Yvonne.

To stay camera-ready, Yvonne had to watch her diet.

As she peeled an orange, she playfully teased Hans. “Hans, is your Auntie Sandra nice?”

“Yes,” Hans nodded earnestly.

“Then would you like Sandra to be your mom? If she were your mom, you could eat all this delicious food every day. How about it?”

Hans, with a piece of chocolate cake still in his mouth, shook his little head vigorously.

“Hans has his own mommy,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by the cake, but his expression was very serious.

“Alright, stop teasing him. A mother is irreplaceable in a child’s heart,” Sandra said, handing Hans a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice in case he choked on the cake.

Yvonne smiled and ruffled Hans’s hair. “Good boy. You can’t be bought.”

After breakfast, Sandra took Hans and left. She was keeping her promise to take him to The Grand Carousel.

Yvonne headed to the set for makeup.

“You shouldn’t have, dear. Just coming is enough. Don’t spend your money next time,” Mrs. Moore said.

Yvonne replied, “It’s just a little something. It’s not much.”

“I know you don’t eat seafood, so I had the housekeeper buy a fresh duck from the market today. We’re having duck soup tonight.”

Mrs. Moore took Yvonne’s hand and led her into the living room.

The Moore’s home hadn’t changed much from what Yvonne remembered, except for a black-and-white photograph of Flora now hanging on one of the walls.

In the photo, Flora was young, at the peak of her youth, with her hair in a ponytail, her smile gentle and radiant.

Yvonne walked to the portrait and stood before it for a moment of quiet remembrance.

Standing behind her, Mrs. Moore’s eyes grew misty as she gazed at her daughter’s picture. “My, how time flies. In the blink of an eye, it’s been seven years since Flora left us. If her baby had been born, he or she would be over six years old now… running, jumping, and calling me Grandma.”