Take My Breath Away

And so it began; Erica began to fold stars every moment of the day she got.

Except for when she was in class, she would always carry those plastic straws with her and fold stars whenever she got the chance.

After folding about 200 stars, her fingers began to turn red due to the effort. By the time Matthew noticed her red fingers, Erica had already made 519 pieces.

He took her hands into his own and looked at her fingers carefully. Without hesitation, he took away all the remaining plastic tubes from her. "That's enough. You don't need to fold the rest," he said.

"But I've already made more than 500 of them. I am at 519 now. If I don't complete the set, my efforts will be wasted."

Hearing that, Matthew took two plastic tubes and handed them to her. "Alright. Then you can fold only two more. But that's it!"

"Why two?"

"Then they'll be 521."

'521? The number means "I love you." Is he finally going to confess his love to his goddess?' she thought.

Anyway, whatever was going on had nothing to do with her. He was just going to give them to his goddess, and most likely, that mysterious woman was Phoebe. All Erica needed to do was finish her task.

To be more considerate, before handing over the stars to him, Erica even went out and bought a glass jar. She put all the folded stars into it, and they looked really beautiful.

Satisfied, she ran to the study to find Matthew with the glass jar in her hands.

She could see very clearly that Matthew was very satisfied with the finished work. There was even a trace of smile in his eyes.

"Leave it here. You can go get some rest now."

'He didn't even thank me! He just said go away?' Erica pouted her lips.

After the door of the study was finally closed behind her, Matthew looked at the glass jar Erica had brought with tenderness in his eyes. He opened the safe and carefully put it in.

But instead of locking the safe after it, he took out a photo from it. It was a photo of a girl with her hair tied in a ponytail; her face was a bit baby fat and she appeared to be a teenager. In this particular photo, she could be seen standing in the sun with her hands on her hips and laughing wildly at the sky.

The bright and lovely smile went straight into his heart.

At that moment, the door of the study, was suddenly opened once again. A little head stuck out from the crack. "Hey, I have something else to ask you," Erica called out wi

roup of policemen and a little girl were left at the spot. The entire place was in a mess.

"Chief, what about her?" one of the uniformed officers pointed at the girl who was sitting on the stone bench by the side and asked.

Gifford glanced at the girl. She seemed to be in her early twenties. Her clothes were torn and disheveled after being held hostage by the gangsters for three days.

Her face was covered with mud, and her face could not be seen clearly, but the stubbornness in her clean and clear eyes would have reminded anyone of Erica, if they knew the latter.

Gifford stubbed out the cigarette in his hand, exhaled the last smoke and asked the girl, "What's your name?"

The girl was drawing circles on the ground with a branch. Hearing his question, she looked up at him and said, "Chantel Ye."

"How old are you?"

Chantel Ye frowned slightly, but still answered, "20."

Gifford noticed her impatience. He smirked. She looked exactly like his little sister. "Where is your family?"

Thanks to Erica, he had developed quite an understanding of dealing with little girls. In his opinion, there was no other girl in the world more difficult to deal with than Erica.

This time, after a pause, she replied expressionlessly, "Dead."

"Dead? All of them?"

"Yes."

After a short silence, Gifford asked, "What are you going to do now?"

Staring at the green military uniform he was wearing, Chantel Ye said softly, "Bury my grandfather first; then feed his chickens at home."

"Your grandpa just died?"

"Two days ago."

"Are you going to feed the chickens for the rest of your life?"