Chapter 1892


    The relentless downpour had raged the whole night through.


    Now, standing sentinel over the expanse of green, the air was fresher than ever—a crisp, clean


    scent that only came after a storm. Yet the paths were marred by deep ravines carved by the rain''s


    fury, muddy water still trickling through them, carrying with it the detritus of twigs and decayed


    leaves.


    Outside the orphanage, the world seemed unnervingly quiet, the sound of running water and bird


    calls piercing the silence with an unusual rity.


    "No way." Boyd''s voice finally broke through the stillness, eerily calm, bordering on the sinister.


    Ava pressed her lips together, her hands shaking slightly. "Anyway, that''s what happened. Believe it


    or not, it''s up to you."


    Boyd''s fists clenched tight, his breathing growing ragged as a terrible pressure built up in his chest,


    as if the air were being slowly siphoned away.d2


    A chill ran down Ava''s spine at his demeanor, a coldness that seeped inside and made her shake


    uncontrobly. "I... I have to go. I''m so cold."


    Boyd remained rooted to the spot, his mind a void of emptiness, yet paradoxically sharp and clear.


    So clear that every nerve felt like it was being mercilessly torn apart.


    Yasmine was gone? How could that be?


    She was only ten. People died when they were old and gray, didn''t they? She should have had at


    least sixty years ahead of her. How could she be gone?


    After a long while, he suddenly looked up toward the road leading to town. He was about to run, but


    the orphanage''s director grabbed his arm with a force that stopped him dead, his voice low and


    stern, "Boyd! Where do you think you''re going?"


    Boyd turned, meeting his gaze, and the director was taken aback. He had never seen such an


    expression on the boy before—eyes rimmed red with barely restrained emotion, as if he was on the


    verge ofplete copse.


    Yet, he managed to hold on.


    "They said Yasmine''s dead. That can''t be right, can it?"


    The director pursed his lips, his face a portrait of sorrow and regret, "We all wish it weren''t true."


    Boyd felt a pang of disappointment. What he wanted—needed—was absolute certainty. He needed


    someone to tell him that Yasmine couldn''t be dead.


    "So, I have to see for myself. She''s just hurt, right? We need to get her to the hospital, and she''ll be


    fine, won''t she?"


    The director hesitated, looking at Boyd’s stoic face, then nodded. The director snapped back to


    reality the next second. "What will be will be. I''ll look into it. For now, you need to go back inside.


    From now on, nobody leaves the orphanage without permission."


    Boyd stood motionless.


    The director sighed, "Boyd, I''ve always thought you and Yasmine were two of the brightest kids


    here. I understand that this is a huge blow. Something happened to your best friend, and I get it. But


    look around—do you really n to walk to town? When will you get there, and where will you even


    start to look for her?"


    Boyd''s eyes trembled as reality set in. He was powerless to do anything right now.


    The director pulled him back toward the orphanage, "I care about Yasmine too, so I''ll keep tabs on


    the situation. What you need to do is not add to the chaos."


    Trouble rarelyes alone, and the chaos mentioned by the director was quick to follow.


    The kidnapping of a child from the orphanage and another kid''s fall from the mountainside while


    trying to rescue them became a headline-grabbing news story.


    In the days that followed, the orphanage was busier than it had ever been since its inception with


    police officers, media, and a barrage of questions. There wasn''t a moment of peace.


    Even the attempt to keep things under wraps was futile. Soon enough, all the children at the


    orphanage knew.


    Yasmine died, falling from a steep cliff while trying to save Serana, whom she had always disliked.


    "Poor Yasmine. I used to wrongly think she was a troublemaker."


    "Yeah, I always knew she wasn''t as bad as she talked. A bad kid couldn''t have grown such beautiful


    flowers."


    "Right. And a bad kid wouldn''t share her birthday cake with us."


    "She was just tough. Last time she came by, she was in such a hurry that she fell hard. I heard her


    gasp in pain, but she didn''t cry."


    "She was really brave, wasn''t she? How could she not cry when she was sad?"


    Boyd had been unable to focus on his studies recently. Instead, he spent his days sitting by the


    flowerbed, silently tending to the lilies that grew taller each day.


    He shouldn''t have reacted to the children''s words, but as he heard their varying opinions of


    Yasmine, his anger boiled like water on a stove, ready to burst.


    Yes, he was angry.


    But more than that, he was angry at himself. He resented their changing attitudes, and he despised


    himself for being just like them.


    Maybe he was even less forgivable.


    They could now openly express their misunderstandings and regrets about Yasmine. Their


    connection to her was nothing more than sharing the same orphanage.


    But him? He had been her friend for nearly three years. To her, he was the only one.


    If it hadn''t been for him, perhaps none of this would have happened. He was the closest person to


    her, and yet, he had hurt her the most.


    The stic watering can in his hand was squashed out of shape from his grip. He looked up, his


    face darkening, his usually calm voiceced with a harsh edge.


    "When did she fall?"


    The child who had spoken earlier recoiled at Boyd''s menacing demeanor, hiding behind another kid,


    only a small head peeking out. He answered timidly, "It was two days ago, in the afternoon, right


    before ss. I was out looking for Serana to go to ss, and I saw her running in from outside. I


    don''t know why, but she just fell to the ground. She looked so pale, like she was really scared, but


    she must''ve been in pain. I was secretly hoping she''d cry so we could, you know,ugh at her, but


    she just got up and ran straight to the director''s office."


    "Yeah, now that you mention it, her knees were all battered when she went to save that kid. She


    was bleeding and had to kneel on the tree trunk to inch her way over to save someone. That kid,


    she never did anything by halves."


    The speaker was the officer assigned to investigate the incident.


    Boyd''s chiseled features froze, his brown eyes flinching. He turned to face the man who stood


    behind him. It’s the officer who had received the call about the incident at the orphanage just two


    days prior.


    The officer nodded slightly at him, raised an eyebrow, and was about to walk away. Boyd set down


    the watering can he was holding and blocked his path.


    “How’s the investigation going?”


    The officer didn’t beat around the bush. “As for Serana’s case, I believe such incidents won’t ur


    again. You can rest easy.”


    Boyd clenched his fists tighter, “What about Yasmine?”


    The officer lowered his gaze and stared at him for a while, then shrugged helplessly.“I can’t disclose


    anything about her situation.”


    Boyd frowned, but the officer brushed past him, heading straight for the director’s office. The case


    was closed, and it was his duty to inform the director.


    The director had been run ragged these past few days, and the news was a small constion. “At


    least now I have something to tell those reporters.”


    The director emerged with the officer, and Boyd was just about to knock and enter.


    The director nced at him. “sses are about to start, Boyd.”


    But Boyd was insistent, “I want to know how Yasmine is.”


    The detective said nothing.


    After a few seconds of silence, the director shook his head. “Let’s just say she’s in good health.”


    Boyd blocked her way out, almost demanding, “What do you mean ‘let’s just say’?”


    The director exhaled a weary sigh, “Boyd, no matter what, the oue can’t be changed. Each of


    you has your own path in life. You’ve always been hardworking. I hope you continue to strive and


    live your life to the fullest.”


    Boyd’s head hung low, silent. The director and the detective exchanged a look and shook their


    heads, walking away.


    As they left, reporters swarmed around Ava, bombarding her with questions. Ava huddled up, her


    eyes dodging the camera lenses. “I was the first to find her, but she was severely injured at the


    time, coughing up blood and feeling cold.”


    “She…”


    Ava hesitated, unsure of how to proceed with her story, but through a gap in the crowd, she saw


    Boyd approaching.


    Biting her lip, she locked eyes with Boyd and said deliberately, “She will nevere here again.”


    Boyd froze on the spot.


    The reporters immediately went into a frenzy. Taking things out of context, generalizing from the


    specific, was their instinct when it came to highlighting the main point.


    To them, saying "She will nevere here again" was no different from saying Yasmine was dead.


    The reporters then noticed the director and the officer who had just entered the office.


    Belongs to (N)?vel/Drama.Org.


    Even from a distance, they jostled to get their questions in.


    “Is what that child just said true?”


    “Did Yasmine really die?”


    The gravity of a life lost nowpletely overshadowed the kidnapping case of Serana.


    The director stood hesitantly, regretting his timing. This was a tough question indeed. But given the


    circumstances, he had no choice but to face it head-on.


    “Regarding the kidnapping incident at our institution…”


    The reporters weren’t interested in that anymore, but they still listened to the story from beginning to


    end. Then they brought the focus back to Yasmine.


    The director sighed, “It’s truly regrettable. Yasmine, although only ten years old, was very bright and


    decisive. As this was the path she chose for her life, we must respect it. I also implore you all not to


    dwell on this matter any longer. She was a private person, never one for too much attention. Now


    that it''se to this, please give her the peace she deserves. Thank you all.”


    Finishing his statement, the director bowed deeply to the media.


    He felt sorry for the child behind him, but if Mr. Bryson had requested it, to fully protect Yasmine, he


    had toply.


    A moment of sorrow for one child weighed less than a life at stake.


    The reporters murmured sympathetically.


    Boyd remained standing, his posture rigid, his face rminglyposed.


    --


    At the city hospital, in a certain room.


    Yasminey in the hospital bed, her body swathed in white bandages, save for her eyes and nose.


    Two soft pillows propped her up as she stared quietly at the wall-mounted TV.