Enchanted Nightfall: Falling for Destiny

Because he figured that if it didn’t concern him, if they weren’t on his radar, why should he waste time on someone he didn’t care about?

Then, Quintessa left.

Tyrone mulled it over for a few days, but still felt that she was just a one–night stand with a bit of intrigue, not worth his prolonged attention. In the past three years, he’d jet off to Serenitia for a mix of vacation and business, yet he never once thought to check on Quintessa.

While he lounged in five–star hotels, savoring gourmet meals, Quintessa was out there somewhere, struggling to get her hands on a slice of bread to stave off hunger,

Tyrone had his grip tightened on the documents, which featured a photo of Quintessa. On the snow– covered streets, she walked alone, in thin clothes, her face marked with distinct bruises.

Her eyes were colder than the snowflakes that settled on her.

Suddenly, Tyrone didn’t know what attitude he should adopt for their next meeting. Content © NôvelDrama.Org.

For the first time in his life, he realized that he might have made a mistake.

-Tyrone, you better pray you don’t fall for me, otherwise.

Quintessa’s words echoed in his ears.

Her voice was calm and weak, but that underlying resentment sent chills down his spine.

Tyrone covered his eyes, leaving the documents scattered to the floor, burying his feet.

He had never felt pity for others; he’d seen people in worse straits than Quintessa.

But the mere thought of Quintessa’s plight made his chest feel tight and his heart race.

This was a feeling he’d never experienced before.

Tyrone’s car was parked beneath Quintessa’s apartment building for three or four hours until he finally went up. He stood for an hour outside her door, but he didn’t make it ringing the bell in the end.

He realized he was scared.

He didn’t know how to face Quintessa.

Tyrone found it ridiculous that he’d come to know what ‘fear‘ was in his lifetime!

At 10 p.m., Tyrone returned home,

Cecilia was in the living room, with her face slathered in a beauty mask, engrossed in her favorite drama series. She followed it religiously, staying up late without a second thought.

Upon seeing her son, she rolled her eyes; she was too miffed to bother with him. Normally, she’d have asked: “Tyrone, you’re back. Have you eaten? Want me to whip up some late–night snacks?”

”

But she was still irritated with him.

Not in the mood of talking, Tyrone just wanted to go straight upstairs.

But then he remembered something and stopped, saying, “Mom, if you did something not–so–nice to

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somebody, how would you normally, go about apologizing?”

Cecilia’s shock was palpable, even with her face mask on.

She’d lived this long and never heard such words from her son.

Cecilia turned off the drama, and took a while to respond: “Apologize? Ty, what’s going on? Are you feeling alright? No fever? Oh, I know, have you finally realized the error of your ways, feeling guilty about the child?”

Tyrone’s face darkened: “I’m going to bed.”

As Tyrone headed upstairs, Cecilia sat dumbfounded for a good while.

Tyrone thought he did something wrong? Could it be he finally felt that he shouldn’t have been such a scoundrel?

Cecilia’s thoughts ran wild; she was contemplating the possibility of a grandchild in the near future.

That night, Tyrone couldn’t fall asleep.