Chapter 742

Xiomara’s eyelids weighed heavy, struggling to open just a sliver as she squinted at the surroundings.

She nodded, then promptly went back to sleep.

Sumner yanked her out of the car, signaling to the driver not to depart just yet as he could need a ride later.

Following Xiomara’s groggy directions, Sumner led her to the basement door of a building.

The sight took Sumner by surprise.

He hadn’t anticipated Xiomara residing in such a rundown spot, and it left him momentarily frozen.

The structure before him seemed ancient at first glance, its white edges tinged with yellow, and slightly askew.

It appeared hazardous.

She didn’t merely inhabit an ordinary floor; instead, she called the basement home.

Opening the basement door unleashed a wave of decay and dampness that hit Sumner like a freight train.

He couldn’t help but turn away to retch; the stench was overwhelming.

Inside, the walls bore the scars of mold, and the floor felt damp underfoot.

Despite the conditions, the owner had put effort into maintaining the place.

A few mismatched pieces of furniture were arranged haphazardly.

No television adorned the room, only small boxes on a makeshift stand containing essentials like data cables and adhesive tapes.

Xiomara’s living situation, contrary to her perpetually cheerful demeanor at work tugged at Sumner’s sympathy.

After tidying up the bed, Sumner settled Xiomara onto it, removing her outerwear and shoes before covering her with a blanket.

Turning to leave, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of sorrow for the girl before him.

Searching for a basin, he fetched water for her to freshen up.

The sensation of wetness on her face stirred Xiomara awake.

As her eyes fluttered open, she found herself face-to-face with Sumner, who was in the midst of washing her face.

Upon realizing she was awake, Sumner, inexplicably embarrassed, cleared his throat.

“You’re up.

I noticed you seemed uncomfortable, so I thought a little face wash might help.

Now that you’re awake, I’ll leave.

Remember to drink some water.

”

Just as he turned away, Xiomara grabbed onto his cuff from behind.

In a soft voice, she confessed, “Sumner, I really like you.

I want to be your girlfriend.

Can you give us a shot?”

Time seemed to freeze, and the air turned thick with silence.

After a prolonged pause, Sumner finally spoke.

“You’re under the influence.

”

Her heart sank.

The courage to unveil her deeply buried affection had only surfaced under the influence of alcohol.

The stark reality of rejection, delivered so plainly, jolted her awake.

“Am I not enough?”

“You’re more than enough, but we’re not a good fit.

”

Not a good fit? It was the kind of reasoning one employed when one couldn’t find affection for someone.

Xiomara cast a glance at her decrepit surroundings, struggling to hold back tears.

Her long lashes drooping, she softly asked, “Is it my humble background or am I not up to your standards?”

“Neither.

” Sumner admitted, “I’ve told you, I have feelings for someone else.

I can’t develop affection for another person.

I value your feelings, but you deserve someone better than me.

It wouldn’t be fair to you when my heart only belongs to someone else.

”