Su Jinhe looked down at the surface of the table, as if it might shatter under the weight of his next words. He was ashamed to tell her all this, but this was his last weapon to get into Meilin's heart.
"I wasn't at work that night, Meilin. I was at a gambling den. I thought I could win back enough money to pay for the medicine, for the debts, for the rent." He exhaled a shaky breath.
"But I lost, I lost everything."
For the first time since he sat down, there was something genuine in his expression. Regret. Not for the gambling, or the debts but for his son.
"That night, Zhihao died alone. Without even a goddamn fan to cool his body."
He paused, it was a long and suffocating one. Even Su Meilin didn't dare to move her body for a bit, her mind was full of thoughts as she bit her lower lip.
