I wanted to cry but I couldn't do it. The child was called Callum, a name given by Irvin, he no surname was given. His tomb was placed in the south.

The child's picture on the tombstone was blurred while the front of the tomb was covered in weed.

I squatted in front of the tomb and started cleaning the surrounding mess.

Leaning my forehead against the tomb, I smiled faintly. "I'm sorry, my child for only being here now."

I had been avoiding this for so many years. I thought I could get over it, but I couldn't.

Next to me, someone was sobbing quietly. It was a woman who was in her thirties. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ Find ɴøᴠel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

I cast a sideways glance at the tombstone in front of her. It was the tomb of a middle-aged woman. It was probably her mother.

There was nothing I could say to comfort her. I remained quiet, watched her cry, and felt an emptiness in my heart. Why didn't I have any tears to cry?

After a while, the woman stopped crying. When she noticed me, she was slightly stunned. She said in a hoarse voice, "You..."

smiled faintly, "I'm here to visit my

picture was not in the best condition, she could tell that it was a child. After a

me with reddened eyes, "Life

anything and kept

I left the cemetery, the woman hadn't left yet. It seemed

an eight-year-old child. She had a happy family - parents and a younger brother. The

Her mother could not bear the sorrow, so she remarried, taking her brother with her while she was tossed into her

Her presence made her grandmother's already

and torture. As a young girl, she made the

shock. I didn't understand why she would say something like this to a stranger like

stunned, I didn't

was not my home, after all. I only came

went back to the apartment and took a long nap. In my dream,

eyes, I cried and woke

memory was torn apart, and I was in so

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