He had seen this scene countless times over the past twenty years, but for some reason, today, a faint sense of guilt welled up inside him.
During dinner, Iris had little appetite. After eating just a few bites, she retreated to her room.
After holding back for days, Wendel wanted to talk to her, but he couldn’t find the right opportunity.
Meanwhile, Esther clung to him, insisting he accompany her for a walk by the small river at the west end of the village.
Feeling restless himself, he agreed.
The summer night breeze by the river was refreshingly cool. As they walked, their hands gradually found each other.
With no one else around and the dim moonlight casting a soft glow, Esther grew bolder. She leaned her entire body against Wendel.
The scent of her hair, the warmth of her skin—his face instantly turned red.
Instinctively, he tried to pull away, but she tightened her grip.
Her voice was gentle, almost pleading. "Wendel, do you really want to marry Iris? You know deep down..."
"Esther, stop talking." He cut her off, his tone firm.
"I’ve always known how you feel about me. If you weren’t considered my adopted sister, I would’ve been willing to marry you."