CHAPTER 31: CHAPTER 31: ANNIVERSARY OF LOVE

Where he touched in passing, it felt a little ticklish.

Every event that happened in this room feels like feathers floating on the heart, making one itch all over.

The man’s large hand clasped around Poppy Hale’s slender waist. With the dress’s waist cinched, she looked as delicate as a doll in a snow globe.

These past few years, he has never lacked women by his side.

Back and forth, when they looked at him, their eyes all conveyed the same emotion.

A passion as if wanting to consume him.

But none of those looks were like Poppy Hale’s.

Such fervent and sincere love, he had never seen again.

In fact, several times Declan Hawthorne almost had the chance to clarify his identity to Poppy Hale, even though he never considered such an identity a burden.

The heir to the Hawthorne Group—these five words, wherever they go, aren’t they always revered?

But he held back.

He didn’t tell Poppy Hale because he was afraid, worried that she would start seeing him like everyone else.

No longer pure, mixed with calculation and probing, wanting to use him to glimpse the colossal entity behind him.

At that time, Declan Hawthorne felt exhaustion and pressure for the first time, yet he never thought about what if Poppy Hale refused to accept his identity.

He considered breaking up after graduation.

But if she said not to, he would go along with her.

The love she showed was so thick, so heavy, enough to enfold Declan Hawthorne.

And when he imagined her giving such love to another man, Declan Hawthorne clenched his jaw, his expression darkening.

He couldn’t contain himself.

His grip tightened.

Poppy Hale couldn’t help but murmur, "President Hawthorne? You’re hurting me."

"Didn’t Secretary Sloan tell you that you were here as my date?"

Poppy Hale shook her head, "Secretary Sloan just said it was a banquet, that I should sign in and leave. President Hawthorne, if it’s inconvenient, maybe you should have someone else..."

She still wasn’t quite comfortable being alone in a room with Declan Hawthorne.

What happened just now was an accident.

Poppy Hale’s ears turned slightly red. Already fair, when they blushed, they took on a pink hue. She glanced at Declan Hawthorne with a charming side-eye and slightly lowered gaze.

She herself didn’t know, in such a gaze, in such a setting.

Looking at a man harboring ill intentions.

How damaging it could be, or how attractive.

Declan Hawthorne only remembered that his throat was dry, restraining that strange yet familiar impulse, he snorted coldly, "You’re already dressed; change someone else? Poppy Hale, do you think I’m that free?"

"I’m going out to smoke."

With that, the man was the first to walk out the door.

There was a designated smoking area downstairs at the hotel.

Poppy Hale went downstairs, separated by a piece of glass, waiting for Declan Hawthorne.

The man stood tall and straight, holding a cigarette in one hand, a phone in the other, not knowing who he was messaging.

Every strand of his hair was meticulously styled, with some gel applied, looking more like a distinguished elite compared to the teenager he once was.

He was more mature, with sharp features, and his eyebrows now contained ambitions he didn’t have before.

Strategizing and controlling the overall situation.

The reflection of her in the window had changed too.

The woman’s body was slender and delicate, dressed in a pale blue gown, the diamonds on the hem sparkling like starlight under the lights.

Yet there was no trace of a smile on that face.

Poppy Hale placed her hand on the window, watching her reflection overlap with Declan Hawthorne’s silhouette.

He was both far and near.

Her past love was too humble; she cautiously held him, afraid he would find her boring and uninteresting and stop liking her.

Perhaps she always knew that he never liked her.

She only longed for that slight difference.

As long as Declan Hawthorne thought she was different from the others, it was enough.

Let it be like this.

Poppy Hale’s fingers curled, as if touching the contours of Declan Hawthorne’s clothes through the glass.

Their beginning was a mistake.

Now, she only wanted to work hard, save money for Mrs. Hale’s surgery, buy a house, and let Florence Lynch live a better life.

As for Declan Hawthorne.

He was her superior, her boss.

She was just his subordinate, and that’s fine.

Most of the time, she could take a glance at him and then hide those opaque thoughts.

When she could see him without her heart racing, then she’d let it go.

But why, every time she saw him, her heart not only raced but also ached?

Truly disappointing.

Poppy Hale lowered her gaze, covering her heartbreak.

Just in time, missing the glance Declan Hawthorne gave her after finishing his cigarette.

In front of the glass window, the woman stood there gracefully, like a doll in a shop window, exquisite and elegant.

Declan Hawthorne walked in.

He reached out.

Letting Poppy Hale place her hand in the crook of his arm as they walked towards the others.

Many wanted to get to know Declan Hawthorne, also evaluating this newly inherited eldest grandson of the Hawthorne Family with intentions.

A middle-aged woman cast a disdainful glance at Poppy Hale by Declan Hawthorne’s side.

Ignoring her.

Feigning a sycophantic smile, "President Hawthorne, are you single? My daughter is your age, perhaps you could meet?"

Such a direct matchmaking was indeed rare.

People around inwardly cursed this shameless woman for immediately promoting her daughter, but couldn’t help but observe Declan Hawthorne’s reaction.

Declan Hawthorne smiled elegantly.

He placed an arm around Poppy Hale’s waist, a light and breezy smile on his handsome face, and cheerfully said, "Sorry, she would get jealous."

Poppy Hale cooperated and said, "Yes."

The middle-aged woman: "..."

She glanced at Poppy Hale again.

As if just noticing Declan Hawthorne had brought a date, she raised her sharp brows, "Is this President Hawthorne’s girlfriend? How long have you been together?"

Poppy Hale answered obediently.

"We’ve been together since freshman year, is there a problem with that? It’s like our university allows students to date."

Declan Hawthorne nodded, gazing at her gently, "Yes, they do."

Unexpectedly, they were campus sweethearts.

The middle-aged woman initially thought that Declan Hawthorne was making up an excuse not to go on a date.

Now, it seemed she was making a fool of herself.

Embarrassed, she left.

Poppy Hale withdrew from Declan Hawthorne’s embrace, "Sorry, President Hawthorne, that was a temporary measure."

"Hmm."

Declan Hawthorne said nothing.

After the banquet, Declan Hawthorne drank a bit too much. Those people crowded around to make him drink, and he ended up drinking a lot and mixing it, getting somewhat drunk.

Poppy Hale supported him up to the room, searching through Declan Hawthorne’s pockets but couldn’t find the room card.

After the hotel’s upgrade, some rooms could be opened using a passcode.

Poppy Hale looked at the door lock, hesitated for a moment, and entered Declan Hawthorne’s birthday, incorrect.

Declan Hawthorne, smelling of alcohol, impatiently said, "December 8th. 1208."

She entered the passcode again, and it was correct.

Inside, after placing Declan Hawthorne on the bed, Poppy Hale turned to pour him a glass of water, only to hear Declan Hawthorne, husky with obscure emotions, say, "Did you forget that day?"

Poppy Hale’s hand paused.

December 8th was their anniversary.