Female NovelWaylen withheld nothing from Mark. A faint smile graced his lips.
Mark, for a fleeting moment, felt a hint of envy. He took a sip of tea to mask his emotions.
Waylen casually perused a magazine, remarking with nonchalance, “Mark, if you’re considering relinquishing everything for Cecilia, the project is nearly done, and there shouldn’t be any further mishaps.”
Mark discerned the underlying message in Waylen’s words.Contents belong to NovelDrama.Org
Coincidentally, Edwin bounded down the stairs, a playful demeanor about him. His cheeks held a rosy hue as he approached Mark’s side, softly summoning his father.
Mark’s touch tenderly graced his son’s head.
Edwin, his gaze brimming with anticipation, queried, “When the snow gets heavier, can you build a snowman with me?”
Mark’s response remained unspoken, shrouded in silence.
He placed Edwin on his lap, retrieved a candy from his pocket, and presented it to him.
Edwin placed the candy in his mouth but continued to gaze at Mark expectantly.
Mark too yearned for staying, to bask in the joy of making his son happy. But he needed to depart, a multitude of matters requiring his attention at the base.
His internal struggle did not evade Waylen’s notice.
Thus, Waylen reached out, taking Edwin in his arms, and patted him gently.
“Go upstairs and play with Leonel. I need to talk to your father.”
A momentary pout of disappointment graced Edwin’s tender features. Nevertheless, he obediently ascended the stairs. Mark’s heart ached profoundly.
At five years old, Edwin already yearned for his father’s companionship. Yet, as his father, Mark had failed to spend more than a few days with him. He couldn’t even promise him a snowball fight. Waylen, attuned to Mark’s mood, could sense the turmoil within him.
However, he refrained from intervening in the intricacies between Mark and Cecilia. Their attachment was complex, after all.
With the aspiration that Cecilia might reconcile with Mark still lingering in his heart, Waylen personally poured a cup of tea for Mark, After a contemplative pause, he asked, “What are your plans after wrapping up this project?”
Clutching the teacup, Mark gazed pensively at the drifting snowflakes outside.
He comprehended Waylen’s unspoken inquiry.
His reply, hushed and thoughtful, emerged.
“My family has some projects.
The younger generation is struggling to manage them effectively. I’m considering revitalizing these ventures, giving them a fresh lease on life.”
Waylen chose not to push Mark further. Mark’s departure was scheduled for four in the afternoon.