The Love I Begged For Was Never Real novel Chapter 129

The card sitting on top was a hand-drawn birthday greeting.

The childish crayon strokes depicted a lopsided cake, with a messy line of text scribbled beside it.

“Happy Birthday, Gideon. I'll stay with you forever and ever.”

It was signed with a wobbly 'Giselle'.

Nora knelt on the rug, her hands hovering in the air. Staring at the objects scattered across the floor, her heart rate began to accelerate uncontrollably.

Around the cards lay older relics: a broken music box, faded hand-woven bracelets, heavily creased paper cutouts, and a faded orphanage name tag.

She reached out and picked up the top photo album.

The edges of the album were heavily worn from constant flipping. She opened the thick cover.

The album didn't contain Hayes family portraits, nor did it document Gideon's childhood. It was Giselle.

It was nothing but Giselle.

The very first page was a solo shot. A young girl in a brand-new pink princess dress stood timidly by the garden fountain, clutching a doll for dear life. It was Giselle, right after she had been brought to the manor.

Nora turned the pages, one by one.

The girl in the photos gradually grew up, her features becoming increasingly delicate and striking.

There were photos of Gideon and her together, and pictures of Giselle in gorgeous gowns during family banquets. But the vast majority were candid, completely unposed shots taken in secret.

Afternoon sunlight streaming through a glass window; Giselle asleep on the sofa, swallowed up by a massive men's suit jacket. The camera focus was so terrifyingly precise on the sleeping girl's defenseless face that you could see the fine peach fuzz on her cheeks.

On a garden bench, Giselle looking down, entirely focused on eating a slice of strawberry cake, a smudge of white frosting on the tip of her nose.

Late at night in the study, Giselle sitting on a massive rug putting together a puzzle, the warm overhead light cascading through her hair.

The composition, the lighting, the exact timing of every single candid shot—they all radiated a photographer who had poured his absolute soul into the lens. Gideon had hidden behind that camera, meticulously freezing every microscopic detail of Giselle's life into permanence.

His eyes had never stopped tracking that girl, documenting every single fragment of her existence.

Nora's fingers began to shake uncontrollably as she turned the pages.

The familiar fountain pen strokes burned into her retinas.

It was Gideon's handwriting.

Staring at those short sentences, Nora's pupils violently contracted.

The orphanage. The little girl. Gave her a name.

That thunderstorm night, the boy who had shoved half a cracker into her hand. And later, the silhouette of that boy standing against the light, pointing at the terrified girl in the corner, declaring with absolute certainty, 'I'm taking her.'

Nora's fingers trembled as she flipped to the second page.

“March 4th. Giselle ate an extra slice of strawberry cake today. She didn't wipe the frosting off the corner of her mouth. Very cute. Can't let her eat too many sweets, her teeth will rot.”

“April 12th. Giselle lost a tooth today. She cried so hard, saying she was ugly now. I told her she will always be the most beautiful girl in the world.”

“June 5th. Someone bullied Giselle at school. I broke his leg. Grandfather forced me to kneel in the ancestral hall as punishment. Giselle sneaked in to see me and brought me medicine.”