No Substitutes for the Bigshots' Dream Girl Anymore!-Chapter 1683: Arnold Simmons Extra (49)

Falling on his neck and in his heart, a momentary chill gave way to waves of warmth.

Hannah sniffled, her shoulders quivering slightly.

Crying again?

Arnold Simmons was a bit annoyed, not at her, but at himself. He sighed and said, "It’s my fault, can you please stop crying?"

She didn’t respond.

All Arnold could do was continue, "I’ll give you the clothes, I’ll carry the backpack to keep myself warm, and I’ll cover myself with the papers, alright?"

He had never comforted anyone before; his tone was stiff.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes."

Hannah turned around, raising her head slightly to sneak a peek at him.

Arnold noticed her little movement, but pretended not to see it and just sat there honestly for her to look.

The rain outside the window seemed to lighten a bit, and it wasn’t as dark as before.

Against the light, the youth’s outline was clear; the indifference between his eyebrows and eyes was replaced by anxious bewilderment. He seemed more humane, not as cold and detached as before.

"Then put on the backpack," Hannah spoke again.

Arnold sighed and obediently did as told.

Just as he stood up, a careless glance caught the mischievous smile in the little girl’s eyes.

She wasn’t crying; she was clearly sneaking a laugh!

"You’re teasing me on purpose, aren’t you?"

Hannah raised her head, struggling to suppress her laughter and shook her head, "No, I’m not."

She clearly was.

Arnold clicked his tongue lightly, put the backpack aside again, and walked up to Hannah. He wasn’t angry but stared straight into her clear black and white eyes, "Were you crying?"

"No," Hannah shook her head, her smile obedient.

Feigning obedience.

That was the conclusion Arnold reached; the little girl was good at acting obedient, but in truth, she was cunning and had probably deceived many.

He reached out, gently pinched her face, smiling playfully, "Oh, not crying, so you were sneaking a laugh?"

Hannah slapped his hand away and looked up at him, "You made me carry the backpack to stay warm just now."

The spot where she slapped on the back of his hand felt itchy and somewhat warm.

Arnold straightened up, "I wasn’t wrong though, carrying the backpack keeps you warm, doesn’t it?"

Hannah hummed, "What about the papers?"

"The papers block the wind," Arnold leaned to the side, his manner casual like an idle and carefree Eldest Young Master, "Haven’t you seen homeless people under the bridge using newspapers as blankets?"

His words fell casually, as if they slipped out with no other meaning.

Yet Hannah was slightly taken aback, the laughter in her eyes faded a bit.

Not every child is showered with abundant love and blessings from birth.

Like Arnold.

Arnold’s mother was also a victim, fresh into society, and the arrival of the child hit her like a sledgehammer, almost shattering her senses.

But eventually, she decided to leave with the child within her.

Because she knew her capabilities and wanted to raise this child on her own.

Regrettably, she didn’t achieve her goal in the end.

As a mother, she was still a child in her parents’ eyes.

For Arnold, the elderly couple couldn’t fully embrace him with all their hearts; the most they could do was raise him.

As for other sentiments, they could not provide.

But even so, for Arnold who was young at the time, it was the most beautiful childhood he had experienced.

Until years later, he once again became a person alone.

For other relatives, even if there was supposed kinship...