Something must have happened, Mrs. Protich thought to herself.
But she didn’t know how to ask. Winifred Dawson remained silent, leaving her anxious.
After finishing a whole glass of hot water, Winifred Dawson finally cleared the blockage in her throat and spoke, “Leland Burns is dead.”
Mrs. Protich was about to pour another glass of hot water for Winifred Dawson when she heard this. Her hand trembled, and the glass slipped from her grasp, shattering on the floor with a “crash.”
Mrs. Protich was completely stunned. For a moment, she didn’t know whether to ask about Leland Burns’ situation or to crouch down and clean up the broken glass.
Winifred Dawson disliked hearing anything about Leland Burns. A month ago, after warning her once, she never mentioned his name again.
When Leland Burns was sentenced, she saw it on TV-life imprisonment for twenty-two years. She had mixed feelings but accepted it; the law wouldn’t wrong an innocent person. She admitted she had misjudged him.
When Winifred Dawson came back that day, Mrs. Protich wanted to talk about Leland Burns but remembered Winifred’s previous warning and kept silent.
Over a month passed, and some people and things began to fade away. Unless one deliberately thought about it, they wouldn’t remember him.
Winifred Dawson suddenly mentioned Leland Burns’ death. Hearing his name stunned Mrs. Protich, and then she focused on the word “dead.”
Leland Burns is dead? How could that be?
Not only did Winifred Dawson not believe it, but Mrs. Protich also found it hard to believe. If not for Winifred’s serious face, she would have thought it was a joke.
“Is he really dead?”
“Yes.”
“How is that possible…” Mrs. Protich’s brows furrowed tightly as she sighed deeply.
If there was anyone she had met in her life who was remarkable, it was Leland Burns. Young and talented, just in his early twenties-how could he be gone?
“Didn’t he just go to prison? How could he die? Miss Dawson, who told you this?”
“Everyone is saying it was an accident.”
“How could such an accident happen in prison? He was so young…” Mrs. Protich didn’t know what to say.
After spending so many days together, Mrs. Protich had somewhat understood Winifred Dawson’s temperament and knew she hated Leland Burns.
The person she hated died; shouldn’t that be something to be happy about?
Mrs. Protich couldn’t read Winifred’s expression. Her face remained pale from the sea breeze, showing no sign of warmth as she looked at the broken glass on the floor.
Mrs. Protich sighed again and carefully swept up the shards with a broom before dumping them into the trash can.
For Leland Burns, twenty-two years in prison might have been worse than death.
But now that he was really dead, many people felt it was both a pity and unexpected.
Leland Burns’ death once again became a hot topic online. Some felt sorry for him; others thought he deserved it. Most remained neutral, believing it had nothing to do with them and didn’t need much attention.
Leland Burns’ case also served as a warning to some people: always be good and do good deeds. Look at what happened to Leland Burns-he escaped the death penalty only to die quietly in prison.
Mrs. Protich went into the kitchen to make ginger soup for Winifred Dawson to ward off the cold. She brought it to her: “Miss Dawson, have some ginger soup; don’t catch a cold.”
The ginger soup had a pungent smell that Winifred didn’t like. She could tolerate ginger as a seasoning but would never eat it directly.
In the past, she would have poured it out immediately, but her sharp temper had gradually softened around Leland Burns.
Drinking ginger soup was better than catching a cold and taking medicine later. With a frown, Winifred finished the bowl of ginger soup despite the slight sting on her tongue.
After drinking the ginger soup, it was already past eight o’clock. Usually around this time, Winifred would just be coming back from outside to take a shower.
Today, she sat on her bed for a long time in her bedroom. She picked up her phone several times but put it down again, wanting to check online but resisting the urge to call Henry for information.
In the end, reason overcame that suppressed impulse-calling would mean she cared about Leland Burns?
She didn’t care about him at all-not one bit.
But sometimes, the more you try not to care, the more his image lingers in your mind.
Winifred soaked in the bathtub, sliding down until the water covered her eyes. Just before suffocating, she emerged from the water; her long hair clung wetly to her pale skin like an enchanting siren from myth. She leaned over the tub and vomited uncontrollably until everything she’d eaten that night came out along with the ginger soup. Her throat burned fiercely from the acid.
Even after emptying her stomach, she continued retching until only bile came out. Shivering uncontrollably in the water made her body feel alternately hot and cold.
Winifred felt miserable; she often took medicine but rarely visited hospitals unless absolutely necessary-most issues passed after a night’s sleep.
She dragged her exhausted body out of the tub, wrapped herself in a robe without drying her hair, and lay down on her bed-the damp hair soaking into the sheets.
Curled up on the bed with vacant eyes staring out of the window, she eventually fell into a hazy sleep filled with dreams of Leland Burns.
Leland followed her everywhere in those dreams; he did whatever she said obediently like no one else ever could-knowing all her likes and dislikes intimately.
He had once been very good to her until… knowing exactly what repulsed her yet imposing it upon her anyway.
They were like two hedgehogs entangled in combat-each trying to wound the other deeply.
Winifred’s dream felt more like an extended memory-a recollection of days when Leland played games with her during feigned ignorance; he knew she loved swinging and built one under camellia trees in their yard.
He sang songs and told stories at night like soothing lullabies until she fell asleep; his cooking surpassed even their household chef’s efforts because he personally attended to everything for her despite having staff available.
A tragedy arises from intertwined internal-external factors; once destined for sorrowful endings within such deceptions-all beauty becomes cruel-even simple hugs or kisses turn harshly poignant reminders of betrayal beneath surface pleasantries masking underlying intentions…
Deeply immersed actors sometimes feel genuine emotions too…
Winifred knew Leland sought transforming dependency upon himself alone-but overlooked how parasitic plants like dodder survive by strangling hosts for sustenance…