The Last Time I Cried Your Name novel Chapter 553

Late that night, Petty lay in bed, holding a photograph of Abacus up to her face. Moonlight spilled through the window, illuminating the little boy's face. She pressed a kiss to the picture before holding it tight against her chest.

"Baby, Mama misses you so much."

The cool night breeze drifted through the open window, gently lifting the ends of Petty's hair before sweeping across the room, out the opposite window, and into the vast sky.

The trade winds carried across the ocean, reaching the far shore.

In the sprawling gardens of Misty Vale, Abacus had been carefully holding onto General's back, taking slow, wobbly steps alongside the massive dog. Suddenly, the toddler paused.

A warm breeze brushed against his little forehead.

It felt incredibly soft, incredibly soothing.

Abacus tilted his little head back and squeezed his eyes shut in pure bliss.

It felt just like Mama giving him a kiss.

General, currently serving as a fluffy walker, noticed his tiny passenger had stopped. The dog turned his head to inspect the boy.

Keeping one hand firmly on the thick fur, Abacus used his free hand to give the dog a gentle pat. "Doggie, go," he ordered in a sweet, childish babble.

General faced forward again, taking the command in stride.

The dog resumed his slow, steady pace beneath the shade of the garden trees, perfectly guiding Abacus into a confident rhythm.

General had the physical stamina and tracking instincts to make a top-tier K-9 unit. He certainly never expected to spend his days childless, playing nanny to a human baby instead.

And not just a nanny—an actual piece of walking equipment.

Well, a walking dog.

Sitting beneath a patio umbrella, Franco sipped his coffee. He watched Abacus gain solid footing under General's patient guidance and glanced over his shoulder. "Give General some extra treats, Jackson."

Acting as a living walker, constantly shifting his weight to catch the boy whenever he almost fell, and serving as a personal bodyguard—the dog was putting in serious overtime.

"She just replied 'thank you.' She didn't ask anything else."

"Isn't a 'thank you' enough?" Franco replied smoothly, though he flipped to the next page with a bit too much force.

A black sedan rolled down the tree-lined driveway leading to the estate. Through the windshield, a female driver came into view.

Abacus stopped walking. Franco grabbed the toddler's sippy cup from the table, walked over, crouched down, and pulled the boy into his lap for a quick drink of water.

Manley gripped the handles of his cup, his wide eyes fixed on the courtyard as the black car pulled to a stop.

The door swung open, and Wendy Holt stepped out, dressed in a sleek, icy blue dress.

Even after being discharged, Manley still required weekly health checkups.

But Franco outright refused to subject him to a hospital environment again. His child had suffered enough sterile rooms, so he had a private exam suite set up right here in Misty Vale.

And the physician tasked with Manley's ongoing care was Dr. Wendy Holt.