CHAPTER 153: CHAPTER 153: BOTH HAVE THEIR TROUBLES

Approaching the festival.

Outside the window, near the river, the government organized a fireworks show.

The moment Poppy Hale kissed Declan Hawthorne on the cheek, the fireworks show outside began.

Initially intending to cut his hair, the bathroom window was left open.

Through the bathroom window, clusters of brilliant fireworks bloomed in the night sky.

And blossomed in Declan Hawthorne’s heart.

The man’s eyes suddenly lit up.

She kissed him voluntarily.

He was afraid of seeing any trace of hesitation on Poppy Hale’s face.

This kiss ignited a fire in Declan Hawthorne’s heart.

Even if it was because he saved Florence Lynch and shamelessly made her soften and feel pity for him, so what.

He wanted to hold her.

Grasping Poppy Hale’s wrist and pulling her in front of him, Declan Hawthorne’s whole body tensed slightly, his forehead resting against Poppy Hale’s.

The fireworks outside were magnificent.

Because they lived in adjacent houses, Declan Hawthorne’s bedroom bathroom and Poppy Hale’s bedroom bathroom were also closely connected.

Separated by a wall.

Florence Lynch was held in Truth Hale’s arms, standing in the next bedroom watching the fireworks.

Florence Lynch was also holding Barrett.

Poppy Hale could hear Florence Lynch’s voice.

"Grandma, where did mom go?"

Truth Hale sat in a rocking chair, holding Florence Lynch, her voice kind and gentle.

"She went to find your dad."

Poppy Hale’s heart skipped a beat.

It turned out Truth Hale knew everything.

The bathroom was filled with the scent of shower gel, mixed closely with a certain brand of men’s cologne, every time Poppy Hale passed by a counter and smelled it, she involuntarily thought of Declan Hawthorne.

The more she smelled it, the dizzier she felt.

Declan Hawthorne wrapped his arm around her waist, his high nose bridge covered with hair clippings from the haircut.

The tips of their noses touched, the distance drawing closer.

Poppy Hale listened to the intermittent conversation between Truth Hale and Florence Lynch next door, and couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous.

It was like having a secret affair behind the elders’ backs.

Next door, Florence Lynch yawned.

"Oh, mom told me, dad is Uncle Hawthorne."

Truth Hale looked fondly at Florence Lynch in her arms, "Do you like dad, Florence?"

Florence Lynch said something, but Poppy Hale couldn’t hear it clearly.

The sound of fireworks was too loud.

She only heard Truth Hale’s slow and calm voice.

"It’s not his fault, nor your mom’s. Back then, they both had their difficulties."

The voice was firm, with a calming strength.

Yet it stirred waves in Poppy Hale’s heart.

Like a stone dropped onto the sea, causing ripples when it hit.

Poppy Hale’s eyes became warm.

It felt like there was a pair of hands always invisibly supporting her.

In her throat, it felt like something that had been stuck there was finally falling away, and the sour tears swirling in her eyes rolled down Poppy Hale’s fair cheeks.

Declan Hawthorne’s lips landed at the corner of Poppy Hale’s eye, kissing away her tears.

She reached out to stroke Declan Hawthorne’s brows and eyes.

She removed the tiny hair clippings from his face.

Her voice was very soft and somewhat hoarse, as if someone recovering from a cold finally found their own voice again.

"Declan Hawthorne, don’t be afraid."

"I want to marry you, sincerely."

Outside the windows, the fireworks were colorful.

The falling shadows plunged into the rivers, lakes, and seas, sinking into the darkest abyss.

The moonlight reemerged behind the fireworks, sketching the world in gentle outlines.

In the bathroom, Poppy Hale wiped off the hair on Declan Hawthorne’s face, holding his face and looking into his eyes.

Poppy Hale’s face carried a bit more of her past pride and mischief.

"Marrying you, it’s a bit of a loss for me, so you have to work hard and make money, and give it all to me."

"You know, I love money the most, money can buy everything."

Emotions in Declan Hawthorne’s heart surged uncontrollably.

During this time in the hospital, except for his brain, no part of him could move freely.

In his mind, all he could think about was Poppy Hale’s image.

He frequently recalled the past.

The past when Poppy Hale loved him immensely.

He indulged, sank, and couldn’t extricate himself, yet refused to admit his love.

She accommodated, endured, and gave completely, but disappointment accumulated invisibly.

Declan Hawthorne placed his forehead on Poppy Hale’s shoulder.

His large hand gripped the back of her neck, preventing her from lowering her head to see his current embarrassment.

Poppy Hale only felt a dampness on her shoulder, as if something scorching hot, tears, were slipping from his eyes.

It was almost burning her.

About to burn him.

"I’m sorry, Poppy. I was wrong in the past."

Poppy Hale gently shook her head.

Her gentle fingers patted Declan Hawthorne’s shoulder.

She comforted, "That’s because of your family’s wrong teaching methods. From now on, your family can’t interfere with Florence’s education."

She couldn’t accept that her child would be raised like Declan Hawthorne.

Unable to love someone without constantly denying their own affection to soothe their restless heart.

It’s somewhat distorted.

But it was also this matter that let Poppy Hale feel for the first time that loving and being with someone is actually a collision of two families.

She journeyed with the love given by her parents, meeting Declan Hawthorne who grew up in the cage of high society, finally gaining a moment of freedom to breathe.

In a certain sense, he truly had nothing.

And she was indeed rich.

Declan Hawthorne raised his head and kissed Poppy Hale fiercely.

All his anxious and restless emotions transformed into a beast at this moment, growing branches from a burgeoning desire, making him want to merge Poppy Hale in front of him into his own body, uniting as one.

Her willingness to talk about the future and their child meant she was considering their future.

This opening turned all of Declan Hawthorne’s recent joy and anxiety into a deeper desire.

The kiss was passionate and lingering, the soft gasps rising and falling in the bathroom.

Poppy Hale pushed Declan Hawthorne away slightly.

"You’ve got hair all over your face, it’s prickling..."

His stubble slightly emerged, pressing against Poppy Hale’s soft and flawless chin, scratching past making her feel prickled and uncomfortable.

Her voice was like a kitten’s, making Declan Hawthorne feel caught between heaven and earth.

"You can speak now, Poppy."

"Mm..."

"But talk a little less, you just recovered, don’t strain your vocal cords."

He held Poppy Hale, turned around, and stepped into the bathtub.

"Let’s take a bath, wash the hair off your face."

How the two of them would bathe together, there’s no need for adults to think about it.

Before cutting Declan Hawthorne’s hair, to make things easier, Poppy Hale had taken off her down jacket, wearing only the sweater knitted by Truth Hale underneath.

Full of colorful colors, with even varying thickness of the yarn.

But it was very comfortable to wear.

When Poppy Hale tried to push Declan Hawthorne away, as she lifted her hand, the edge of the shower tap hooked onto an unraveled end of the yarn, with a ripping sound, Poppy Hale watched in disbelief as her sweater lost half its length!

The desire that had just ignited was forcefully suppressed.

The two stood in the bathtub, looking at Poppy Hale’s sweater, now only enough to cover above the collarbones, with her waist and abdomen exposed.

And the end of the yarn hanging on the showerhead.

They exchanged glances.

Couldn’t help it, they laughed.

As the laughter intertwined, Poppy Hale simply took off the sweater, carefully winding the yarn back.

Leaving only a white bra on her upper body.

Declan Hawthorne’s face pressed against Poppy Hale’s shoulder blades, she could even feel the rhythm of his breathing.

She could also hear his voice, extremely low and reverent to the extreme.

"I love you, Poppy."