Fated love: the unwanted bride
Chapter 1097 - Chapter 1097 Chapter 1097 Its Fun to Play with People Isnt It

Chapter 1097: Chapter 1097: It’s Fun to Play with People, Isn’t It… Chapter 1097: Chapter 1097: It’s Fun to Play with People, Isn’t It… Jasmine Yale’s heart pounded more fiercely, her fingertips trembling slightly.

She couldn’t explain why she had such a thought, but indeed, it grew stronger and stronger.

She rubbed her forehead, trying to suppress the chaotic threads of thought in her mind.

In front of her was a teacup, filled with brewed black tea.

The tea had long since gone cold, but she hadn’t taken a single sip.

Jasmine Yale’s dense and lengthy eyelashes quivered slightly under the light, like fragile butterfly wings.

The private room was extremely quiet, Jasmine could even hear her own breathing and heartbeat, the air still filled with a comforting fragrance, yet her heart had risen to her throat.

Five forty-five.

Sylvan Cheney had not yet arrived.

There was only a quarter of an hour left until their agreed time.

She knew Sylvan was very punctual, always a man of his word.

In their line of business, punctuality was the basic form of credibility.

Perhaps he was on his way, or… perhaps he had forgotten.

Jasmine Yale looked up at the cake on the table; the box remained unopened.

Suddenly, she lost the desire to open it.

In her eyes was a depth as vast as the sea, bottomless, covered with a thin layer of bewilderment.

She looked at the cake she had made by hand, looked at the black wallet she had bought for him.

Inside her heart, an indescribable feeling rippled.

Six o’clock.

In the silent private room, Jasmine Yale remained alone.

In that moment, a profound disappointment painted her eyes, spreading across her face from the corners of her eyes.

She curved her lips slightly, a shallow smirk at the edge of her mouth.

The door to the private room remained closed from start to finish.

He didn’t come.

She lowered her head and picked up the mobile phone on the table, calling him.

This number was new; he said it was reissued when he came to UT.

She dialed once, no answer.

Twice, still no answer.

Jasmine Yale stopped calling.

By this moment, it was already six-thirty.

The warm, yellowish light shone on her face, her calm expression containing a silent complexity.

She should have known long ago that he would not invest any real feelings or sincerity in her.

On her twentieth birthday, he didn’t show up.

For his birthday, he still didn’t come.

Possibly, he simply thought that on important occasions, the one facing him should not be her.

Jasmine Yale lowered her head, burying it in her arms, a wave of powerlessness sweeping over her.

She hadn’t meant anything by it; it was just that he happened to be in Cakago, and it coincidentally was his birthday, so she wanted to celebrate it for him.

Were all her efforts worthless in his eyes?

Indeed, she couldn’t throw him a party, nor could she give him expensive gifts…

But even things prepared with utmost care were worthless in his eyes.

Worthless.

Jasmine Yale buried her head deep in her arms, an indescribable complexity slowly spreading, a sour taste in every limb.

He may have simply forgotten.

But why promise something he could not deliver?

“Sylvan Cheney… Is it fun to play with people’s feelings…”

Jasmine Yale’s tears still fell.

She always had shallow tear ducts, prone to crying when she felt sad.

That was probably her only way to vent.

If there’s no treasure, why trample?

Is there a kind of vindictive pleasure in this?

If that’s the case, he’s been successful, knowing exactly how to wound a person’s heart completely.

Neither open attacks nor hidden threats are frightening; what’s terrifying is being lifted to heaven only to be forcefully pushed down afterward.

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