Benson

Chapter 60 The Definition of Home

Benson’s thoughts drifted back to the day of the auction.

That day, Yvonne had humbled herself unusually low, almost begging to buy back the brooch at twice the price..

Her eyes were filled with urgency and pleading, as if the brooch held indescribable importance for her.

She tried to explain that the brooch was her father’s relic and meant a great deal to her.

However, Benson didn’t give her the chance back then. His heart was consumed by an inexplicable emotion, and he interrupted her, not letting her continue.

In that suffocating moment, Yvonne had proposed a condition that shocked him: give her the brooch, and she would agree to the divorce.

Now, as Mr. Donald was recounting stories about Yvonne’s father, she listened intently, her eyes sparkling like finely cut diamonds.

She smiled faintly, seemingly reminiscing about those beautiful times.

Benson watched her, feeling a surge of indescribable emotion. He realized how deeply Yvonne cherished her father’s memory, to the extent that she would do anything to protect those precious memories.

As they sat at the table, Yvonne gratefully listened to Mr. Donald’s tales of her father before marriage, drinking wine despite her usual dislike for it.

Mr. Donald, despite his age, could see Yvonne’s sincerity, a trait she clearly inherited from her father.

Feeling a kinship with her and seeing her as a junior, Mr. Donald turned to Benson, “Benson, why are you so distracted today?”

“I made a mistake,” Benson said, leaning back and resting his arm on the back of Yvonne’s chair. He glanced down at her.

His eyes held a trace of regret, knowing he had erred but unsure how to make amends.

Mr. Donald, understanding, asked, “So, is that why you have a bruise on your face? Did Yvonne hit you?”

Benson chuckled, shaking his head, “No, she wouldn’t hit anyone.”

“Then you got into a fight,” Mr. Donald surmised, though skeptical, “People say you’re the epitome of an upper–class gentleman–graceful, elegant, and always composed. Fighting. seems out of character for

you.”

Yvonne slowly turned her face, “He has a bad temper and is petty, Mr. Donald. Did you

Chapteredt The thefisk

mistake him for someone else?” Her voice held a playful tone, as if intentionally undermining him.

Mr. Donald laughed, and Benson glanced at Yvonne, who appeared innocent despite her mischievous words. He leaned closer to her, “I was like that in my twenties.” His voice carried a hint of self–mockery, acknowledging his past imperfections.

Yvonne rolled her eyes dramatically and turned back to Mr. Donald, “Mr. Donald, let me toast to you again. I’m really happy to have met you today.” Her voice was tinged with drunkenness, and her eyes were becoming more unfocused.

She was drunk and couldn’t drink anymore. Mr. Donald, also quite pleased tonight, chatted briefly with Benson before preparing to leave.

Yvonne stood up quickly and gave him a deep bow, “Mr. Donald, thank you so much.” Her voice was filled with gratitude, her eyes shining with sincerity.

She wanted to escort him out, but Benson kept her in the private room.

Downstairs, under the dim streetlight, Mr. Donald looked deeply at the young man before

him.

His voice was filled with emotion, “The one in your heart is like a guiding light, but this one is also dazzling, isn’t she?” His voice was low and magnetic, as if urging the other to think deeply.

Benson smiled faintly, his eyes showing a mix of emotions.

Today, he didn’t have to see Yvonne. It was Mr. Donald who lightly suggested it, and he

took the initiative to meet her.

His heart already had an answer, but facing Mr. Donald’s question, he chose to remain

silent.

Mr. Donald, seeing Benson’s gaze, felt a mix of indulgence and pity.

As someone who had been through it all, Mr. Donald understood Benson’s thoughts.

He gently patted Benson’s shoulder and spoke earnestly, “In the waves of emotion, we are not unfeeling stones, but sensitive strings. A light touch can create a resonating melody. Now, it’s up to you to make your choice.”

His words were filled with wisdom and understanding, as if pointing Benson in the right direction.

Benson nodded, his mind made up. He looked at Mr. Donald and solemnly said, “I understand. I’ll come see you after Christmas.” His voice was firm and resolute, as if making a promise.

Mr. Donald’s car slowly drove away, disappearing into the night.

Benson stood there, watching until the car was out of sight before turning back to the private room.

Yvonne sat alone at the table, resting her cheek on one hand and slowly pouring water with the other, seemingly lost in her own thoughts.

She glanced briefly at Benson as he entered but continued drinking water, trying to dispel her frustrations.

Benson sat silently beside her, watching her with gentle eyes. He didn’t disturb her, just quietly accompanied her, waiting for her to speak.

The air was filled with a calm and subtle tension, as if time itself had slowed down.

As time passed, Yvonne’s cheeks turned red, and her movements grew slower.

She was quite drunk, appearing lazy and sleepy, much like she did at Hannah’s house.

She drank well and, after enough water, lay her head on the table, ready to drift off.

Her lazy and adorable appearance made her look like a sleepy kitten, inviting a gentle. touch to comfort her.

Benson softly stroked her head, asking tenderly, “Shall we go home?”

Yvonne didn’t move for a long while before turning to him, her eyes both confused and determined, “We’re no longer a family.”

“Who says so?” Benson asked softly, his fingers still gently stroking her head.

“I do,” Yvonne’s voice, though weak from the alcohol, was unwavering.

Benson stood slowly, helping Yvonne up, his tone firm, “You don’t get to decide.” He gently leaned her against himself.

The little woman looked up at him with confusion, then obediently murmured, “Oh,” resting” her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes.

Benson was momentarily stunned by her adorable demeanor, feeling a warm surge in his heart.

He carefully picked up her phone and bag, helping her into her coat.

As he put on his own coat, he noticed Yvonne wobbling towards the door.

He sighed deeply, quickly catching her as she stumbled into his arms, looking back at him.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, her voice sweet and playful, “Darling, you saved

me.”

“Chapterit The Figot Memory