Chapter 1703 The Letter

Soon after, Caitlin withdrew her gaze and lowered her head to look at the letter in her hand with a hint of hesitation flickering in her eyes.

She hesitated, wondering whether or not to give the letter to Joyce. After all, she didn't know what was written inside.

If he wrote something hurtful, would I hurt Joyce after giving her the letter? But when he asks about it, won't he be furious if I didn't?

Caitlin rubbed her temples, feeling an unbearable headache.

In the end, Caitlin decided to give Joyce the letter.

After all, I've already made a promise, so it wouldn't be nice not to give it to her, right? At worst, I could watch her while she read the letter. I could comfort her anytime if her emotions seemed off after reading it. All right. I'll do that!

Thinking about it, Caitlin took a deep breath, turned around, opened the door and entered Joyce's ward again.

Joyce was engrossed in reading a book at the moment. Hearing the door open, she thought the nurse was coming in for a routine check and didn't bother looking up.

Upon hearing Caitlin call her name, she raised her head, looking at her in surprise. “Mom? Why are you back?”

give you something,”

is it? Mom, did you

me.” Caitlin shook her head, put down the basket in her hand, took out the letter Stanley had written

Caitlin withdrew her gaze and lowered her head to look at the letter in her hand with a hint of hesitation

handed the

aback, then curiously took the letter.

nodded. “Yes. I stepped out and was about to go back, but unexpectedly, I ran into him at the door. I spoke with him

letter in her hand. It was light and thin, but it weighed heavily on her

what he wrote?” Joyce took a deep breath and shifted her gaze to Caitlin before

head. “I did, but he wouldn't say. He just said that you'd know once you read

see.” Joyce nodded

going to

this letter, and I'm not quite mentally prepared for it yet. I'll read it after I've calmed

later. I'll stay here and keep you company for a

cook

of cooking. Sometimes, the dishes he makes are even more delicious than mine. It's just that he's too lazy to cook. If I come home late, it's a good

heartily. “Mom, you're

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