Blackening the Affectionate Male Lead (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 93

The place she arrived at by carriage was somewhere she hadn’t visited even once since her father’s funeral. Whitney stepped down from the carriage at her family’s ancestral burial grounds.

Under a clear sky, an expanse of green meadow stretched out. As the wind blew, waves of blue-green grass rippled across the field. The gentle rustling of grass blades in the breeze drifted into her ears. Though the scenery was beautiful, Whitney’s expression remained somber.

Behind the meadow stood rows of gravestones. Her gaze turned toward the one at the very end. Even without anyone telling her, she felt she could tell from afar exactly where her father was buried.

“Go ahead. I’ll stay here.”

At Chester’s words, Whitney nodded and slowly stepped forward. With every step toward her father’s resting place, her heart sank lower and lower.

Thump, thump. It had been so long since they’d met face to face that her thoughts tangled, unsure of what to say first. She felt tears welling up, yet having cried her fill on the way here, she instead felt oddly light-hearted.

Though her reddened eyes and tender nose remained, she was grateful that she could now look directly at her father. Even if it was far too late… at least she could finally face him and ease some of that guilt….

As she passed through the field and entered deeper into the grounds, wildflowers bloomed abundantly all around. The blossoms swaying in the wind seemed to be greeting her. Even the faint fragrance brushing against her nose was pleasant.

Feeling as if the flowers were saying, “Welcome,” Whitney couldn’t help but smile.

The longing she’d kept buried surged forward, as if ready to reach her father. The warm sunshine of a summer day shone brightly, as if offering her comfort. For a fleeting moment, she thought she saw a mirage—her father standing with open arms, smiling broadly at her—and she paused briefly in her steps.

His embrace was so dearly missed that she longed to run into it and cling tightly.

Whitney stood silently for a long while, staring fixedly at her father’s gravestone without uttering a word, then finally reached out and brushed away the scattered pollen.

With great effort, she managed to speak a single sentence.

“I’m here.”

That such a simple phrase should take so long to say made her chest heave deeply. She wrapped her arms tightly around the gravestone.

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