“Alright, talk to your child calmly,” our homeroom teacher said, pouring a cup of tea for Mrs. Xander and patting her hand.
Our homeroom teacher and Mrs. Xander were old classmates and had a very close relationship. With her soothing words, Mrs. Xander managed to restrain her anger.
Both Mrs. Xander and our homeroom teacher confirmed that the information didn’t come from me, and I finally cleared my name.
“Now that it’s not my problem, I’ll head back to the classroom. There are so many practice papers I haven’t finished.”
The college entrance exam was approaching, and I had to make the most of my time.
However, I had underestimated the gossip mills in our school. This incident became widely known. While teenage romances were not uncommon, and some even involved parents and the school, this one attracted unparalleled attention.
I heard that Mrs. Xander gave them two choices that day.
Either Nash would go abroad, or Yvonne would transfer to another school. Yvonne thought she could easily get into an art school with her looks and figure, which was why she dared to be so reckless in her relationship with Nash.
She certainly wouldn’t transfer schools for Nash; she hadn’t fallen in love with him that deeply yet. Tears welled up in Yvonne’s eyes as she hid behind Nash, feeling wronged.
“Don’t worry, Yvonne, I’ll protect you.”
Nash probably felt responsible for Yvonne’s humiliation by his mother. When Nash was taken home by Mrs. Xander, another intense argument erupted. To express his determination to be with Yvonne, Nash even smashed his beloved easel and went on a hunger strike in protest.
I saw Nash a week later. It was the first sunny day in two months. I happened to catch a glimpse of him sitting by the window, painting. Since being with Yvonne, he had rarely touched a paintbrush. He would discard a painting even before it took shape.
In the middle of the night, the piercing sound of an ambulance tore through the silence. My parents heard it and rushed next door to help. I saw Mr. Xander carrying Nash on his back, and Mrs. Xander was sobbing behind them. Nash’s right hand hung in front of Mr. Xander, and blood was dripping down one drop at a time.
“Quick, get him into the ambulance, Mr. Xander, I’ll give you a hand.”
My dad rushed up, supporting the unconscious Nash on Mr. Xander’s back, and they hurried towards the ambulance. Nash, pale as a ghost, lay on his father’s shoulder, a victorious smile in his eyes. As he passed by me, he chuckled and said something.
“In this lifetime, I’ll live for Yvonne. Wendy, don’t obstruct me, or you know what’ll happen.”
In that moment, it felt like a bucket of icy water had been poured over me, and I stood frozen in place,
