Chapter 789 - 788 He Definitely Doesn’t Want to See It
Fiona Sutton slowly sank to a squat, all her strength seeming to desert her, unable to support the weight of her heavy heart. Charles Northwood immediately squatted down beside her. Seeing her like this, his heart ached terribly.
"Let’s go home," Charles Northwood said softly. "You should know how much damage this emotional state is causing you."
Fiona hadn’t mentioned her pregnancy in this situation, and Charles Northwood thought it best not to bring it up first. After all, it was her private matter.
Fiona remained squatting, her hands covering her face. Her tears, like the falling rain, just wouldn’t stop.
Seeing Fiona in such a state, Nia Mitchell disregarded the CEO standing nearby and walked straight over. "Fiona." She didn’t know how to comfort her, just as she often didn’t know how to comfort Maxwell Peary. "Don’t be sad," Nia said gently. "He wouldn’t want to see you like this."
Fiona lifted her head, her gaze fixed on his photograph in the distance. "Yes, you’re right." She quickly wiped away her tears. Though her face was still pale, she no longer looked as utterly hopeless as she had initially. She had to live on, live well; she had known that for a long time. It was just that, standing here, her emotions inevitably threatened to overwhelm her.
"Charles, please take me away from here," Fiona murmured.
Charles Northwood hesitated for a moment. Was this really alright? Seeing the tear stains on her face, he could only bend down, lift her into his arms, and turn to leave.
In the distance, Yancy Hastings’s black and white photograph in military uniform still hung on the wall. His face, filled with an air of integrity, was exceptionally solemn and dignified. In the face of death, everything shattered.
Nia Mitchell and Maxwell Peary walked in together to attend his funeral. The service was simple, and soon afterward, everyone proceeded to the cemetery. Yancy Hastings wasn’t buried where one might have expected, but in a grave that had been purchased long ago. That grave, it turned out, had been bought right when he first joined the military. It seemed quite ironic, looking back.
Maxwell Peary hadn’t spoken a single word throughout the entire service. After the funeral ended, he brought Nia Mitchell home, his face devoid of expression. He sat on the sofa in the Living Room, simply staring straight ahead.
"Uncle Peary," Nia Mitchell said softly, sitting beside him and wrapping her arms around his neck. "Please don’t be sad. If you’re sad, I’ll be very sad too." As she spoke, she hugged him tightly. "Uncle Peary, let’s go for a walk together. How about the garden?" Nia Mitchell looked at Maxwell Peary, her face full of hope.
Maxwell Peary turned his head, looking at her youthful face. After a long moment, he reached out and gently stroked her cheek. "You go by yourself, darling."
With that, he turned and went upstairs...
「...」
Nia Mitchell sat on the sofa in the Living Room, hugging her knees, her face etched with unhappiness. She was terrible at comforting people. Uncle Peary was still so heartbroken, and she felt utterly helpless, able only to wait for him to recover on his own.
Frederick Goldsmith walked into the Living Room and saw her sitting on the sofa. He sighed softly. "Miss," Frederick Goldsmith began, "please don’t be too upset. The Young Master is just... he’s overcome with grief, that’s why..." He had witnessed the earlier scene.
Nia Mitchell managed a faint smile and nodded. "I’m not upset," she said, "just feeling helpless. I can’t do anything to help him."
Nia Mitchell’s dejected expression was particularly heart-wrenching to see.
Frederick Goldsmith approached and placed a fruit tray on the table. Nia Mitchell glanced at it but didn’t touch anything.
"Miss," Frederick Goldsmith suggested, his eyes suddenly brightening, "why don’t you go out and buy something for the Young Master? Perhaps a gift from you would lift his spirits."