Chapter 820 820: It’s My Fault

At this time, when there was no one over the long street, she really realized that she could not find Joseph.

His words reverberated in her ear last night.

He asked painfully, 'was it that difficult for us to be together?'

He said he missed her so much and missed her madly.

She was now crazy.

In the cold air, she curled up tightly to keep the warmth. She could no longer walk and could no longer get up.

In this way, there was only the sound of rain, bearing a monotonous sound by the ear.

Not knowing for how long, as if it exhausted Irish's strength, vaguely, there was a hasty sound of footsteps, breaking the silence.

Then, there was a familiar voice. Low and slightly anxious. "Irish."

Irish's thin shoulder gently trembled, and she mistakenly thought it must have been her imagination. She raised her face buried deep between the knees and looked through the sound.

A big black umbrella obscured the rain.

The man under the umbrella with a handsome face looked worried. Seeing her, the anxiousness at the bottom of his eyes turned into relief, and then an obvious heartache appeared.

His trousers were wet from the rainwater as well as his leather shoes and even his coat.

He must have walked in a hurry or even ran; otherwise, his chest would not have fluctuated in a hurry.

The whole man was like a wood carving, and she only had the strength to stare at him under the umbrella, like a dream. She was frantically looking at him, and he finally came to her.

Her appearance hurt Joseph.

He trotted up to her, holding an umbrella in one hand, circling her in a narrow space.

He lifted his hand and gently wiped away her tears. He hadn't had time to recover, leaned over her cold hand with pity, and lowered, "Irish, here I am."

Yes, he finally came.

He finally found her.

When Daisy finally went through to his mobile phone and informed him about Irish's situation, he wasted no time and returned to the ancient town. He could not sit in the hotel waiting, watching the rain outside, thinking of her small figure shuttle in the embroidery shop to find him. He was heart-wrenched by the thought of her.

She was following in his footsteps, looking for him, and he followed in her footsteps and came back to find her.

He was driven by fear of missing her in the street.

He could only ask door to door, one street after another, to look for her. Finally, in this long lane, he saw a familiar figure.

Small, she curled up under a narrow eave, and the small space could only allow her petite figure.

Joseph's anxious heart finally fell to the ground.

But in a trance, it was like a reversal of time.

He seemed to have returned to his childhood.

The night in his memory was still deep and unforgettable.

He walked in the long lane with the lamp, and the little Irish inadvertently broke into his sight. Although he was young then, he couldn't resist helping her as she looked smaller, curled up in the alley, and her shoulders trembled gently.

He stretched out his hand at her and promised to take her away.

The little girl smiled, and her eyes were full of trust in him.

Did she ever remember meeting him when she was very young? Had she ever remembered that he had an early crush on her smile?

It was like a past life repeating again.

Joseph found her again in the exact place they first met, and she was as helpless and trembling as she had been when she was a child.

The soft voice that came to Irish's ears completely awakened her.

Her pupils were focused, and the man's pitiful face reflected into her eyes and crashed into her heart. She suddenly got up and beat him like crazy the next second, and the solidified tears were running like a river drowning her sorrows.

"Joseph, where have you been? How could you keep me from finding you like crazy? How can you do this? You clearly told me before that as long as I want to find you, I can find you! You also said that as long as I stood where I was, you could find me. What took you so long? How did you find me?!"

Hours of anxiety, mania, helplessness, despair, and fear collided with each other when he saw him, prompting Irish to beat him hysterically and yell at him.

Joseph's heart followed her action, and the next second he held her tightly into his bosom. He kept saying, "It's my fault, it's my fault."

Uncontrollable, she clasped him on the shoulder, beat him, and bit his shoulder.

Joseph let her beat and bite him, let her vent, and his eyebrow was frowning with heartache. He hugged her in his arms.

Her cold body made him deeply blame himself.

****

It was night when they got back to the hotel.

A cup of hot milk was put on the bedside. In the goose yellow light, it quietly gave out the sweetness.

After a hot bath, Irish was wrapped in a quilt. She sat on the bed with her long undried hair, and her face was the same color as the quilt. It was pale, and her lips trembled gently.

Her eyes were dull and fixed, looking out of the window in a direction, but the rainwater blurred her sight.

Feeling a gust of cold, she tightened the quilt for a long time and remembered her aunt's crying words again.

"Irish, what should I do? What should I do? Your uncle had lung cancer, and the doctor said the situation was very bad. I didn't dare tell your uncle. I didn't tell him the truth. I told him that he was infected with tuberculosis, and the doctor asked him to stay in the hospital for treatment."

Irish trembled and felt even colder without reason.

Her uncle's health had always been very good, why did he have lung cancer? She couldn't believe it. The doctor must have made a mistake.

Thinking about it, tears fell from her eyes again, sliding down her lips, and tasted extremely bitter.

Joseph, who simply took a shower, saw that as he came out from the shower room. He felt a severe heartache, took a dry towel to wipe her long hair, and whispered. "I already know your uncle's illness. You drink milk first, and I will arrange a plane back to New York."

Irish pursed her lips but cried.

She broke his heart. He put down the towel, kissed her on the forehead, and gently persuaded her, "Don't worry, I'll find the best doctor to check uncle's illness again."

Irish's tears fell on the back of their hands.

"Don't be afraid, I'm here." Joseph hugged her, wiped her tears, and said, "I'll make a phone call."

As soon as he got up, his hand was pulled by Irish.

He looked back at her with soft eyes.

Irish looked at him, tears rustling, and her beautiful little face became charming and more pitiful. She looked at him through the fog of tears for a long time, and finally, her lips trembled.

"Joseph, what you said still counts?" Her voice choked, "Does it count if I marry you?"