Mr. Scott Sr. was a classic old-school academic, the kind of man who could lecture you for an hour with a stern expression. Every time Yvonne saw him, she felt more nervous than when she faced her dean in college.
Bennett knew her well. He smiled and gently ruffled her hair. “Don’t wander off. I’ll be right back after I say hello to Mr. Scott Sr.”
“Okay,” Yvonne nodded obediently.
The Scotts hadn't invited many guests tonight; everyone present had a formal invitation.
Yvonne didn’t have much in common with the other attendees, so she decided to wander through the house on her own.
Many of the oil paintings and calligraphy works had been replaced since her last visit. The Scott family’s collection was so profound that the art-adorned walls felt like a private museum.
After looking for a while, she still found herself most drawn to “Lavender Grove.”
“You really like this painting, don’t you? I’ve seen you looking at it for quite some time,” a gentle, low voice said from behind her.
Yvonne turned instinctively and saw Cynthia, dressed in a simple, elegant dress, standing just behind her.
It had been nearly a decade since Yvonne had last seen her.
The Cynthia of today had shed her youthful innocence, replaced by a mature, sophisticated grace that was utterly captivating.
“I heard the language of lavender is ‘waiting for love.’ The atmosphere of this painting is beautiful,” Yvonne said.
Cynthia glanced at Yvonne, then back at the painting on the wall. With a voice tinged with nostalgia and regret, she said, “I once had a little sister. She loved this painting, just like you. I told her I’d give it to her as a wedding gift, but… I never got the chance.”
After Yvonne’s death, Cynthia had made a special trip back to the country to visit her grave at the martyrs' cemetery. She had often told her family that one of her biggest regrets was not giving Yvonne the painting while she was still alive.
“I’m sure she received your sentiment,” Yvonne replied with a soft smile.

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