Chapter 384 How Can I Forget?
Harper's face went ghostly white.
She never thought Francis would catch on to her thoughts so quick.
Seeing her all tongue-tied, Francis knew he hit the bullseye.
In a flash, his good-looking face went stiff, and his throat got all dry. With a raspy voice, he said, "Harper, you're really cold-hearted."
Agnes was his kid too! She even planned to keep him from seeing her.
Hearing Francis call her heartless, Harper felt her racing heart suddenly chill out.
She looked at Francis's annoyingly handsome face. Five years hadn't done much to him. Still as classy and charming as ever.
This time, she looked at him with memories flooding back, and it felt way different. The old impressions hit harder, making her heart grow colder bit by bit, her gaze shifting from panic to calm to ice-cold indifference.
Harper said coolly, "Francis, how did we lose our first kid?"
Those words made Francis's dark eyes narrow sharply, and his heart seemed to skip a beat.
No wonder she didn't ask or come see him after waking up. Her memory was back.
Francis was quiet for a bit, then slowly started, "Harper, I..."
"Francis!" Harper cut him off.
She looked at Francis's face, smirked, and let out a mocking laugh.
"Back then, how did I beg you to save our kid? What did you say? You told me to stop making a fuss."
Thinking of that unborn life, Harper felt a bitter sting, her face growing paler, her voice shaking with grief and anger, and snapped, "To you, my kid's life was just a fuss."
Francis looked at her tear-streaked face, feeling like an invisible hand was squeezing his lungs, making it hard to breathe.
"Harper, it's not like that." His voice was rough, "Losing the kid hurt me just as much. I admit I failed to protect you both. You can slap me, yell at me, even stab me, do whatever, but don't treat me like this."
Francis's chest tightened. "You can't stop me from seeing Agnes. I'm her dad."
The old sadness and grievances hit Harper like waves, crashing into her heart, her face, causing intense pain inside.
Her eyes turned red, and she said emotionally, "Francis, Agnes is my kid. I gave birth to her alone. I won't let you take Agnes away, even if it costs me my life."
Too worked up, Harper started coughing uncontrollably, her shoulders shaking, her chest aching from the cough.
Seeing her choking, Francis quickly stepped forward and pulled her into his arms. "I didn't..."
Francis's heart ached uncontrollably. He held her shoulder, gently patting her back to calm her. "I didn't say I'd take Agnes away from you."
His broad hand was warm, and his chest was hot. Harper slowly stopped coughing.
Given their current situation, this hug was way out of line.
She struggled to break free, but his strong arms held her tight.
"Harper, can we stop hurting each other, please?" Francis's hand pressed harder, holding her close, his chin resting on the soft top of her head, his nose filled with her unique faint scent.
Such an enticing smell and embrace, how could he let go?
He looked down at her clean and beautiful face, almost pleading in a low voice, "Let's start over. Just give me a chance to make things right. Let me make it up to you and our daughter, okay?"
Seeing Harper still stone-faced, Francis added, not sounding too sure, "Just for Agnes's sake. She needs a dad, right? Can you really stand to see her get teased for not having one?"
Francis remembered the last time at the playground when Agnes cried, saying the other kids called her a fatherless bastard.
Those words felt like a knife to his heart back then.
That's when he decided to treat Agnes like his own daughter.
Now, Agnes was truly his kid. The memories hit hard, and the heartache was even worse.
She was supposed to be his little princess, not some kid called a bastard.
Thinking of this, Francis's tone got a bit colder, "Even if you can handle it, I won't let Agnes go through that."
Hearing this, Harper sneered.
Francis was still the same as ever.
In the end, he wanted not just Agnes but her too.
Harper pushed him away to keep some distance, then looked up at Francis and mocked, "Francis, are you threatening me?"
Francis's handsome brows furrowed, and he grabbed her hand, his voice rough, "Harper, you got me wrong."
He paused, his throat tight as he said, "I'm begging you. Please think about giving me a chance, forget what happened, and give Agnes a complete family with me."
Francis's tone was heavy with emotion, humbly begging without his usual pride.
Harper's expression stayed cold, even Francis's warm hands couldn't thaw her a bit.
It's no use crying over spilled milk.
Those painful memories were deep and clear.
Every recall of that pain was like a rock crushing her heart and blocking every possible way to bring them back together as if nothing had happened.
Harper looked at Francis, expressionless, and said, "Francis, I'll ask you three questions. If you can answer them, I'll agree to be with you."
Francis was stunned; then, a wave of joy surged in his heart, his heart pounding wildly.
Immediately, he even dreaded breathing too hard and shattering this hard-won chance.
He tried his best to control himself and slowly said, "Try me."
Harper looked at Francis, her words cold and clear. "Where were you when my grandmother died? Where were you when I was kidnapped by Amelia and lost our child? Where were you when I was in a car accident, struggling to survive?"
These three questions made Francis feel like his lungs were instantly cut off, his handsome face pale as paper!
He wanted to speak and open his mouth, but it felt like a knife was stuck in his throat, making even breathing taste like blood, let alone speaking.
Seeing Francis speechless, Harper tugged at the corner of her mouth, smiling bitterly and sadly. "You said you had nothing but gratitude for Chloe, but do you know what your gratitude brought me? So real and so hurtful loss."
"You want me to forget what happened, Francis?" Harper's face was already covered in tears, her eyes filled with pain, and she said word by word, "How? Tell me."
Francis's tall figure trembled violently, his eyes filled with painful sorrow.
Those pains with those sorrows, by design or accident, were all brought by him.
Francis endured the dull pain in his throat as if it were being cut by a knife, and said with difficulty, "I'm sorry."
He knew that "sorry" was not only pale and powerless but also sounded extremely ridiculous.
But besides "sorry," he couldn't say anything else.
Harper tugged at the corner of her mouth, smiling bitterly, and said lightly, "Francis, now, do you still think we can get back together?"
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