Love Began with the First Meeting
Chapter 720 I'll Never Sign The Divorce Agreement (Part Two)

"Just do as I say!" Spark raised his head up and looked into Manny's eyes, "Nanny, my hands are useless. It's impossible for me to even hold a coffee cup after going through so much physiotherapy. Do you think that a hand like this," he lifted his left hand which was trembling and asked, "could ever play the violin again?" "Spark, we can go abroad for treatment! Your hands can be cured. They will be!" Manny roared desperately. Spark's words were unacceptable to him. As far as Manny was concerned, Spark was the most talented violinist he had ever seen, next to Russell. Music and violin had become a part of his life, and it was a part of who he was. To divide it and separate it from him, wouldn't that be as cruel as cutting a part of his flesh from his body? That would be the most merciless thing he could do to himself.

Spark's face showed no sign of emotions. "You know it clearly, Nanny. My hands can never be cured. They've been crippled forever." Spark looked at the palm of his hands. The scars left by the stabbing were still visible. He touched it gently and murmured, "Even if the wound is cured, my hands would be too feeble to control the cords. Spark Su is nothing special without his hands and his violin. He will lead an ordinary life, like any other ordinary man."

Manny's distressed eyes settled on Spark. His eyes turned crimson red as he tried hard to suppress his tears. After a while, he dashed out of the kitchen without saying a word to anybody.

"It's getting late. You guys should go back home," Spark said to the attendants who gathered at the kitchen door. He looked at their sad faces and continued to joke, "Well, since I cannot give you a hand in work, you'll have lots of jobs to do on your own. So get some rest." "Boss..." The girls felt pain in their eyes as they filled with tears. But none of them dared to blink, lest the tears fall without control. They had been working in the Summer Breeze for a while, and knew what type of person their boss was. He was a proud violinist, confident in his music and his performance. Although he had tried his best to pretend to be relaxed, he must be devastated. Everybody knew it.

"I'm okay, guys." Spark flashed a gentle smile and said, "You don't have to worry so much about me. I feel your sympathy. You know how much I hate being pitied."

The girls exchanged glances with each other and then left quietly. The crowded kitchen soon became empty, with Spark standing alone in front of a table.

The peaceful mask on his face split open to reveal his true emotions. His face twisted in extreme agony as if every cell in his body was feeling the pain in his heart. The floor was a complete mess, with china fragments scattered everywhere. He bit his lips down hard and there was a twitching pain in his forehead.

He had been trying hard to subdue all his emotions. That was exhausting. How he wished he could scream and let out all the pain inside him instead of suppressing his emotions in his heart. But he calmed himself down to seal them once again, deep inside. He turned around to face the kitchen with clenched teeth and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and then opened his eyes. He slowly crouched down and pulled over the trashcan. He started to collect the broken fragments one by one. Instead of using his right hand, he insisted on picking every sharp broken glass with his left hand. It hurt, but he ignored the pain and continued. It was bearable at first, but the pain gradually aggravated. He felt exhausted by just moving his hand. He could even feel the swelling of the muscles in the hand, and the clear twitching of the nerves. The pain was getting so intense that sweat-beads formed in his forehead.

"Are you trying to destroy your hand to the point of no return?" an arrogant, angry voice spoke from behind him. "How do you think Little Molly will feel if she saw you like this? And what about Wing? Is this how you live up to her expectations? Did you think of what Brian has done for you?"

Eric's accusations pierced through Spark's ears. His hand stopped upon hearing those words. He gnashed his teeth hard to suppress the trembling of his hand, but he couldn't. The sweat-beads on his forehead trickled down along his face and dripped down to the ground. "Daddy..." a low voice called, which was filled with bravely hidden sadness. Mark looked at Spark with his sparkling eyes. He couldn't speak; he was startled by the scene in front of him. The little boy didn't understand what was happening around him. He had gone abroad for his heart surgery and when he had come back, everything had changed. The people he knew and the relationships he was familiar with were all completely different now. Even the Spark in front of him at the moment was not the person from his memory. Spark felt like someone was squeezing his heart. He raised his head and settled his eyes upon Mark, who was walking towards him slowly. He felt his lips tremble and a lump formed in his throat. "Mark..." he called.

"Daddy..." Mark ran towards him and dashed into his open arms. He hugged Spark's neck, letting his tears rush out without control. He cried heartily, letting out all his hidden emotions which he had bravely kept under wraps for so long. Between sobs, he asked, "Daddy, what happened? You must take care of yourself. Papa Brian left Mark and Mom. He doesn't recognize us anymore. We have lost Papa Brian. Daddy, you shouldn't hurt yourself. You must be careful. Daddy, we cannot lose you. You cannot hurt yourself, Daddy. Okay?" Mark kept saying, as tears rolled down his little cheeks. Though incoherent, his innocent words cut through Spark and Eric's hearts. They were touched and saddened by his pure love and the grief in his little heart.

Spark's eyes were already brimming with tears. His amber pupils looked devastated as it bathed in fresh tears. He spoke to Mark, his voice quivering slightly, "I'm sorry, Mark. I'm so sorry."

"Daddy..." Mark hugged Spark's neck tightly and burst out crying. Tears kept flowing out of his eyes like raging rivers. Spark's shoulders were drenched by his tears. "Daddy, please don't hurt yourself again. Daddy... Papa Brian has lost his memory. I don't want to see you get hurt as well. Daddy, please..."

Spark held Mark tightly in his arms. He said each and every word clearly, "I promise you, Mark. I will never hurt myself again. Never! Now stop crying." He closed his eyes and touched Mark's forehead with his, "I'll recover soon, Mark. You have my word. My hand will soon be cured."

"Okay, Daddy." It was impossible for Mark to stop crying. He shed his tears unchecked like all other kids his age. He cried heartily, hoping that all the unhappy memories will be washed away by his tears. However, that was just a child's naive notion.

The street was bustling with cars and pedestrians. The Sophia Hotel stood in the middle of downtown like a luminous tower in a sea of colorful neon lamps.

Molly looked at the entrance of the Sophia Hotel in a daze. Her mind was a sheer mess as different emotions surged into her like overwhelming waves from a roaring sea. The pain in her heart had a bitter taste now. "Little Molly," said Shirley, casting a look in the direction of the hotel, a stern expression on her face, "this is all I can do for you. You have to face the wall between you and Brian, and win his heart again on your own."

Molly nodded. She pushed the car door open and was about to leave when Shirley stopped her. She turned to look at Shirley, the bitterness in her heart intensifying by the second.

"Brian has always been an independent child, ever since he was a little boy," said Shirley in a low voice. "He never clings to anyone. The only one he wishes to hang out with is Wing." She paused as a painful glint flashed in her eyes. As a mother, Brian's aloof attitude towards her might have hurt her several times. She steadied herself and continued, "Brian is Richie's son, through and through. He was born into this special family which had bestowed upon him a different life from that of ordinary people. Though we never imposed any requirements on Brian and he had the freedom to decide what kind of person he wanted to be, as a member of the Long family, his character might have been etched in his blood. There are things we cannot change. Do you understand, Little Molly?"☐☐☐☐☐☐☐☐☐☐☐☐☐☐