When There Is Nothing Left But Love (Ashton And Scarlett)

“Okay.” I nodded obediently and continued speaking through puffed cheeks, “Get home as soon as you can.”

A faint voice spoke up from his end of the call. It was foreign and sounded like it belonged to a man. “Mr. Fuller, you may begin now.”

“Alright,” Ashton responded to the voice before turning back to me. “I have to deal with some stuff here, so you should go on to bed without me. I’ll text you when I get home.”

Then he hung up before I could manage a “goodbye” or even an “okay.”

Looking back at the call history, something didn’t quite sit right in my chest.

Am I mistaken or did Ashton sound a little nervous earlier? As I contemplated giving him another call after he was done with his work, my phone buzzed—it was a WhatsApp message from Ashton: Don’t worry, Honey. I’ll be extra careful so no one can cop a feel.

A soft smile broke out on my face, thinking that he must be fine if he can joke around like this.

Feeling relieved, I put away my phone and decided to check on the twins in their nursery. On my way there, I noticed a faint glow coming from Summer’s room. Seeing that her door wasn’t fully shut, I peeked into her room out of curiosity.

Summer was still awake at this hour. She sat before her brightly lit computer with her head

last time this happened was when Stella tried to get close to Summer. I already transferred Stella to the Logistics Department and made sure she

in me as I tiptoed behind Summer to get a better look. It turned out that Summer

slightly as I took in the unexpected sight before me. Summer had just started school,

head was still lowered, focusing on the fourth-grade workbook before her. She was so absorbed in solving equations

a tiny human being look so mature

her side, making sure to not startle her before asking my question, “What are you up

to the contents of her workbook. “Math equations are so fun, and Mr. Cress said I’m really good at solving them! He even assigned

“Is that so…?”

its pages. Truthfully, there was nothing special about

my lips into a proud

resembled Macy, who had a gift for numbers before she passed. Back when Macy was a business owner, she would happily throw herself into the tediousness of bookkeeping. She loved it dearly; calculating, and tallying the sums like

was comforting to see. It was as if Summer was living proof

my face as I encouraged, “That’s great, Summer! I’m so proud of you. Now, you’re still young,