No Strings Attached

"Okay, I'll be there soon."

Clara drove to Elle's house.

The living room was filled with baby essentials-there were toys, baby bottles, and diapers everywhere. Every corner of the room was infused with the scent of a baby. Clara's nose tingled with emotion, her eyes teary.

If her baby were still here, he would also be a little over a month old by now, smiling at her. Thinking about this, Clara felt an unbearable pain in her heart.

Elle came downstairs and, seeing Clara like this, felt a wave of sadness herself. She walked over, took Clara's hand, and said, "Missing your baby, aren't you?"

Clara nodded faintly, her eyes brimming with tears as she looked at Elle. "I always feel like he's still here like he's always by my side. I dream of him smiling at me every day. Elle, do you think I have postpartum depression?"

Elle stroked Clara's face tenderly, her heart in agony. "If you ever miss your child, just call me. My two kids are yours, too."

Clara wiped away her tears and said, "Okay, where are they? I want to see them."

"Bran is already asleep, and Roy is awake. Go hold him."

Following Elle upstairs, Clara's heart shattered the moment she stepped into the nursery. Ian's house also had a nursery like this, but now, it was nothing but ruins.

Clara slowly walked to the crib, where Roy was blinking his big eyes at her. His little hands were waving excitedly as if thrilled to see her.

This was the first time Clara had visited Elle's children properly. The last time, they were still in their incubators, visible but untouchable.

Seeing Roy's face, Clara's heart melted. Wasn't this exactly how she imagined her baby would look?

He had big eyes just like hers, a little mouth, and a pronounced nose. It was good that she and Elle looked alike; otherwise, she might think this child was her own. Clara leaned down slowly, gently grasping Roy's little hand, and smiled. "Roy, I'm Aunt Clara. Remember me, okay?"

Roy's beautiful little mouth curved slightly upon hearing this. He made cooing sounds.Material © of NôvelDrama.Org.

Clara watched him in surprise. "Elle, he's just over a month old. How is he already greeting people?"

Elle was also excited, immediately saying, "This is the first time he's been this excited. He must really like you. Hold him."

"Can I? I'm afraid I might not hold him right and hurt him."

"It's fine. He loves being held, and you have to hold him with his head up. He cries whenever he lies down."

Clara bent down, carefully lifting Roy into her arms. Roy seemed to sense something, nuzzling into Clara's chest with his little mouth open.

How could Clara not understand this

gesture? He was searching for milk. But her milk had dried up long ago. There was no scent of milk on her, so why did Roy still recognize her like this?

Clara felt an indescribable sorrow. She gently stroked Roy's cheek. Her voice was hoarse. "I don't have milk, honey. Only your mommy does."

Roy seemed to understand her words, his eyes starting to stare at her intently. His little mouth opened and closed as if he was trying to communicate with her.

Holding such an adorable baby in

her arms, Clara couldn't help but be reminded of her own child. Tears welled in her eyes, yet her lips curved into a smile. "Elle, this child, and must have a special

connection; he keeps 'talking' to me."

Elle's eyes reddened with compassion. "He's usually quite aloof and doesn't talk much. He is not as obedient as his brother t seems he likes you. You should visit Riddleton more often to see him."

"I definitely will."