Chasing My Pregnant Wife by Night Rvelations

Vincent kept asking why. He buried his head in his arms and tore at his hair, yelling desperately, "Why? Why?!"

Rosalie patted his back, not knowing what to say to comfort him.

Not all pain could be soothed with mere words.

He had lost a kin, and in such a terrible way. No one would be able to bear it. If it had happened to herself, she would have broken down, too.

Vincent suddenly reached out to pull Rosalie into his arms and lock her in a tight embrace.

Rosalie was frightened. She anxiously held her palms against his broad shoulders in a bid to push him away.

Just then, Vincent pleaded in her ear, "Don't move. Let me hug you like this just for a while. Please."

Rosalie sighed inwardly.

She patted his back and said, "This isn't your fault. It's all the fault of those villains. I trust Youngie wouldn't blame you, either. She'd want you to treasure the present and live every day to the fullest. She wouldn't want you to be in pain anymore."

"Rosalie, I'm sorry for keeping you here and treating you as Youngie over the last few days. I was just pursuing memories of the past and living in an illusion. When I first saw you, it was as if I saw Youngie. I couldn't stand the thought of getting hurt by them."

and sorrow and helplessness filled his eyes. He was drowning inside and unable to save himself. Rosalie could hear him trying to choke back tears, his

her, but he was also telling her about his internal struggle and pain. He was trying to explain his behavior,

you were treating me as Youngie

you as Youngie, I would

her shoulders, and added with all seriousness, "I can't stand seeing women being

in silence, a mix of complex

empathize with Vincent's pain. Perhaps she was just filled

on the floor. Let me help you to the

nodded and stood up. He stumbled in his steps, more from his wrecked emotions than his

him to the

fell upon the house as a somber mood permeated the

quiet night, the moon's rays shone on the ground, outlining a

lit up by the dim street lights, a ghostly aura wavering in the night wind. The wind made

in the deep of

the distance, their

men were