Chapter 71
Cassandra’s plan had been simple. She wanted to bury Snowball in the garden of her house. She’d even imagined placing a small tombstone there.
That way, Snowball would never lose her way home.
But now… That villa and that garden no longer belonged to her.
She wouldn’t be going back. Soon, another woman would take over that house. She couldn’t bring herself to bury Snowball in a place that would no longer be safe or hers to return to.
So, Ryan took her to the vet first. Snowball was waiting.
And maybe, she knew. Maybe she sensed that Cassandra had found the one responsible, and justice had been served.
Because that little body that refused to rest earlier now lay calm in her arms, and Snowball had her eyes closed. Her expression was peaceful.
Cassandra held Snowball in her arms as Ryan drove them to a pet cremation center.
She chose a round, snow–white urn, From a distance, it did look like a little snowball.
Then, Ryan drove her to the riverside. “This river feeds into the Pale River. Eventually, it flows out to the sea through Stokelle. Let’s scatter Snowball’s ashes here.
“That way, as long as you’re still working at the Westwood Hotel, you’ll always be near. You’ll always see where the water meets the ocean. As long as you remember her, she’ll never really be gone.”
The Westwood Hotel sat right on the waterfront. From the lower floors, the water couldn’t be seen clearly. But from the rooftop, it was all right there.
Cassandra thought it was the best decision, after all. Then, she opened the urn and gently scattered Snowball’s ashes into the river.
She whispered, “Snowball, if you can hear me… come find me again, okay?”
The current rushed past, as if whispering back. Ryan’s voice was low, almost lost in the wind.” I promise.”
The wind made her squint. “What did you say?”
He looked away. “Nothing.”
But in his heart, he finished the thought of meeting Snowball again as her father.
Too much had happened in the past two days in Hannover. But now, with everything finally
settled, Cassandra could rest.
On the flight back to Stokelle, she slept deeply for the first time in what felt like weeks.
And maybe it was true that thoughts followed a person into their dreams, because that night, she dreamed of giving birth to a little girl.
It was a round, chubby baby with big sparkling eyes and soft skin. She was so adorable that it made her heart ache.
That little girl looked up at her and said in a sweet, childish voice, “Mommy, I’m Snowball.”
Even asleep, Cassandra realized that it was a dream.
She had just told Snowball that afternoon to come back as her child–and now here she was.
But then, the little girl suddenly squealed and flung herself into a man’s arms.
“Daddy, hug!”
Daddy? Cassandra’s gaze followed upward from the polished shoes, to the tailored slacks, to a crisp shirt, then to his face.
Ryan? She jolted awake.
Right at that moment, the airplane’s speaker crackled to life. “Dear passengers, we are now beginning our descent into Norland Airport. The estimated landing time is 30 minutes.”
Cassandra let out a breath of relief. She sat up and gave herself a few slaps to wake herself up. What the hell was that dream? How could she dream of Ryan being Snowball’s father? That was beyond weird.
“Awake?” Ryan asked. “We’re almost there. Try to shake off the nap haze.
The sound of his voice made her tense immediately. “I… I didn’t say anything in my sleep, did
I?”
He didn’t answer directly. He just raised an eyebrow with a knowing look. “Maybe a little.”
Panic flared in her chest. “W–What did I say?”
“Sounded like you were calling me… honey?”
Cassandra slapped her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut like she wanted to disappear into
the seat.
Ryan couldn’t help the low laugh that rumbled from his chest. Watching her fall into pure despair over a sleep–mumbled word made something inside him stir.
She’d slept so soundly on the flight, with her usual sharp edges softened. A faint flush had returned to her cheeks, giving her a gentle glow. Her lips, usually pressed into a line of cool defiance, had bloomed back into a natural rosy red. It was slightly pouty from sleep.
Chapter 21
Like a dewy rosebud, begging to be kissed.
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