"Alright, alright, I won’t buy her anything. Besides, she’s always doing chores at home—she wouldn’t have anywhere to wear such a nice dress anyway."
Only when she heard his reply did Esther’s anger subside. Satisfied, she smirked. "Now that’s more like it."
Then, as if suddenly recalling something, she frowned and muttered, "But I remember Iris went out to buy groceries this morning. Why hasn’t she returned home yet? The market isn’t even on this street."
Her simple words made Wendel pause. His brows furrowed as he realized something about it felt off.
Esther continued, "Look—the post office is right over there. You don’t think... Iris is—?"
Before she could finish, Wendel’s expression darkened.
Ever since learning that Iris had found her biological parents, he had felt a growing sense of unease.
He couldn’t quite explain why.
Was he afraid that she would leave this home behind and return to her rightful place as a wealthy family’s daughter?
Or... was he afraid that if she left, he might never see her again?
With a complicated mix of emotions, Wendel returned home.
As soon as he stepped inside, he saw Iris squatting by the stove in the kitchen, tending to the fire.
Her small figure looked especially frail.
The summer heat made cooking unbearable, and sweat had already soaked through the back of her thin shirt.
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.