CHAPTER 184: CHAPTER 184- TERNENCE’S WEDDING

"Janice, what are you staring at? Hurry up!" Peggy glanced back and caught Janice’s serious gaze fixed on the big screen ahead. She spotted the familiar figure too.

"Oh, here it comes!" Janice snapped back to reality and quickly followed Peggy inside.

"That woman... seems like she just returned too," Peggy whispered into Janice’s ear after they’d settled down.

"Huh? Who?" Janice looked up, lips parted slightly, confused by Peggy’s tone.

"Your future sister-in-law, Zoey!" Peggy said, watching Janice’s surprised expression. "I heard she’s got powerful backing — some French tycoon. Do you think Ternence’s interested in her fortune?"

"No way!" Janice denied immediately without a second thought. Ternence genuinely liked Zoey. When they broke up, he was drowning his sorrows in bars — Janice had seen his heartbreak firsthand.

Besides, Ternence didn’t need to rely on Zoey. Janice never cared about the Louis family’s wealth, and Charles would never make things hard for Ternence, who once cared for her.

"Well, she’s definitely pretty. If Ternence marries her, it’ll be his luck!" Peggy teased, holding Trista and looking seriously at Janice.

"Hmm..." Janice mumbled without really listening. Her mind was tangled with thoughts of Ternence and Ternence getting married without telling her.

During the meal, Peggy’s phone rang. She answered with a soft, flirtatious smile — the kind only someone in love could wear. Janice raised an eyebrow and winked, "Is that August?"

From their chat, Janice guessed it had to be. From the start, Peggy had chased after August relentlessly. Even the coldest heart would melt eventually.

"Yeah, he’s such a quiet tease," Peggy complained, pouting as she spoke. "When you pay attention to him, he acts like you don’t matter. But the moment you ignore him, he realizes how important you are."

"Peggy, do you know... about August’s past?" Janice asked seriously. She could tell that although August hadn’t fully accepted her, he’d at least made space for her in his heart.

Peggy met Janice’s intense gaze but said nothing, only nodding hard. Once, August got drunk and confided in her about the unbearable nightmares he hid deep inside. Peggy was the first woman he ever opened up to — even he found it hard to believe.

After that, Peggy pretended she knew nothing. Both of them understood clearly no one had broken through that fragile barrier. Since then, August kept Peggy at arm’s length, but Peggy found it harder and harder to let go.

In her eyes, he was still a pure man. Those cruel memories shouldn’t be his stumbling block — nor stop her from loving him with all her heart.

Seeing them finally find happiness, Janice couldn’t help but feel genuinely glad for them. Compared to Charles, August’s past was even more heartbreaking — those terrifying wounds left scars deep in his mind. Now that Peggy was in his life, Janice believed she could chase away the darkness with her bright sunshine.

Knowing August was coming to see Peggy, Janice wisely avoided being a third wheel. Holding Trista close, she left the restaurant but didn’t go straight home. Instead, she took Trista to visit Cornelia’s grave — her mother had never met Trista, and Janice hadn’t seen Cornelia in two years.

The peaceful spot held a bouquet of lilies glistening with dew. Janice scanned the area, but the image she carried in her heart wasn’t there. Still, an answer settled deep inside her.

"Trista, this is your grandma, okay? Grandma loved Mom very much — just like Mom loves you," Janice crouched down, holding Trista’s small frame, pointing at the beautiful woman on the tombstone as she spoke.

"Gwa...ma..." Trista wobbled her little hands, blinking big curious eyes as she stared at Cornelia’s photo. Then, carefully mimicking Janice’s words, she repeated softly.

"That’s right, grandma. Good girl, Trista," Janice smiled warmly, gently stroking Trista’s hair and kissing her cheek.

A burning gaze seemed to burn into Janice’s back. She turned, scanning the surroundings but felt nothing unusual. Still, a growing unease settled in her chest.

As Janice led Trista away from the garden, she suddenly stopped and turned back. Sure enough, where they had just stood, a weathered figure lingered — his face marked by time, tears of regret streaming down when he saw Janice.

"Janice... may I call you that?" Harold’s hoarse voice broke the silence. When he learned the fire had taken the woman he loved and almost his precious granddaughter, he’d hated his own weakness and helplessness. If anything happened to Janice, he felt he’d have no reason to live.

He owed a debt of gratitude to Charles — the man had saved Janice and cared for her so well. Now, with their adorable daughter, Harold longed to meet her but feared Janice’s forgiveness.

After all that Anila and her daughter had done to Janice and Cornelia, he couldn’t forgive himself.

Janice simply stared at him. Harold had truly aged — white strands touched his temples. The once proud shadow of his youth was gone.

She neither nodded nor shook her head, but Harold felt comforted just the same.

"So this must be Trista? She really takes after you," Harold’s eyes softened as they settled on the child in Janice’s arms. The yearning in his gaze pulled painfully at Janice’s heart.

Maybe she’d once hated him. But now, faced with his remorse and tender regret, she found herself letting go of blame.

"I heard... Ternence is getting married?" Janice’s voice cracked slightly, but she fought to meet his gaze calmly.

"Yes. Ternence personally brought her back from France. He really likes Zoey. If he’s happy, that’s all that matters — let him be," Harold’s eyes never left Janice, as if trying to make up for over twenty years of absence in one look.

He had fulfilled his duties to Ternence and Elvira, but never once to Janice.

"Ternence’s wedding... will you attend?" Harold’s desperate eyes pleaded. Janice knew it was a father’s deepest wish — but she remained silent.

Janice swallowed hard, her heart a tangled mess of pain and forgiveness. She looked away, the weight of the past pressing down. "I don’t know," she whispered. Harold nodded slowly, understanding her unspoken words. Sometimes, healing took time — and some wounds never truly fade.