Cecelia stood in front of the Heath residence, more hesitant than ever.
It took quite a while before she set foot in the house.
The heat lamp in the house was still on, and the yellowish light came through. The dim brightness, however, made the night even darker.
She leaned against the side of the car, staring at the ground motionlessly.
After a long time, her legs felt a little numb.
She pondered how she should ask Charlotte about it.
For more than four years, she had been reveling in the joy of getting her child back, and she had been doing her best to make up for the love she had failed to provide Charlotte with as a mother.
She had never doubted it, but now she couldn't hold back the wild ideas that were swirling in her heart.
But meanwhile, she was deeply worried.
How could she hurt her child again, exactly twenty years after she lost her, if everything was just her imagination?
She had to weigh the pros and cons.
She had to be cautious.
At that moment, Charlotte pushed open the door and came out.
She had only come out to take a bag of trash out. This afternoon, she tidied up her room and threw away all the things she didn't want, things that had to do with the past.
When she went out, she saw that Cecelia's car had returned and was parked under the tree.
It was strange. Since the car was there, where was Cecelia?
She put the garbage bag down in the doorway and took a few puzzled steps forward to see Cecelia standing by her car. Cecelia was shrouded entirely in the shadow of a large tree, and she was unable to see her expression.
"Mom. You're back? Why don't you come in?" Charlotte called out tenderly.
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