"Daddy's story ended so tragically, Becca didn't like it."
Becca, who was in Ciel's arms, sullenly expressed her opinion on being careful inside.
She just likes to hear stories that end well. oo haha Ciel looked down at Becca, patted Becca on the back, and said with a depressed face, "Mom doesn't like this kind of story either, Becca, let's go to sleep, don't listen to it." ” "You don't like to hear it, but you like it when you do it." “” His sneering words made her both angry and unwilling.
She really wanted to turn around and ask him, ask him if his heart was stone or steel.
Why did he only believe what he saw with his eyes, but he was unwilling to feel her love with his own heart, to believe that she would rather die herself than do those things that were sorry for him But what's the point of asking these questions?
If he had believed her, he wouldn't have treated her so cruelly.
Cill closed his eyes, but finally did not turn to answer him.
He looked sideways at her slender body, his eyes darkening.
She didn't answer.
Is it because she can't find any refuting arguments?
He tugged at the corners of his lips bitterly, looked back at the ceiling and didn't look at her again.
Becca's little head listened to the conversation between the two adults in a daze, and her mind was confused.
She didn't understand what they were discussing.
She just wanted to hear the story at the moment.
So she raised her little hand and touched her mother's face, watching her mother ask for it while she was sleeping.
"Mom, Becca still needs to listen to stories."
"Mommy is sleepy, you want to hear your dad tell you."
"Okay."
Becca was a little aggrieved and climbed out of her mother's arms and returned to her place.
She climbed onto her father's muscular chest, and instinctively raised his hand to wrap around Becca's little head.
"Hee-hee."
Becca happily made a row of little teeth, burying her little face in her father's neck and asking coquettishly.
"I want to hear the story, Dad will tell me."
He looked down at his daughter and was silent.
What happened four years ago was a knot in his heart.
Whenever he mentioned it, or thought about it, he would fall into a kind of melancholy and depressed thoughts.
At such moments, he was not in the mood to tell stories to his daughter.
Even if it was his beloved youngest daughter, Becca.
"Daddy is sleepy, Daddy will tell Becca a story tomorrow night, okay?"
Becca pursed her lips aggrievedly.
Why are adults lazier than children?
It's annoying.
Becca was very unhappy that no one told her stories, but she was an obedient and sensible child.
"Okay."
She reluctantly left a goodnight kiss on her father's face and slept back in her place.
He covered Becca with the quilt over his shoulder, kissed his daughter's forehead, who had just closed her eyes and was about to fall asleep, and slept back to her place, looking at the ceiling quietly.
It was their first night.
Sweetness mixed with sadness.
Like a poppy, beneath the beautiful shell is an addictive and deadly poison.
The next morning.
With his eyes closed, Cill raised his hands and stretched out a wide stretch.
After stretching, she habitually turned around a few times, wanting to sleep for a while.
She spun around and into someone's arms as she was about to get up.
But she didn't know it, thinking that he was her own big cloth bear, not only wrapped his neck around his neck and buried his face in his chest, but also put a leg on his waist.
He looked down at Cill who suddenly burst into his arms, and he should have pushed her away, but he subconsciously hooked his lips, and his free hand rested on her back. oshow7 t1706231537: