Delete My Love for You novel Chapter 83

“Why don’t you see for yourself if I’m making things up?” Charlotte’s tone was edged with challenge. “What’s the matter, Mr. Harrington—afraid to look?”

Darren’s gaze sharpened, falling to the weathered, timeworn wish plaque. He held his breath, skepticism warring with a strange apprehension, and finally stooped to pick it up.

The inscription on the wooden plaque came into focus, each word burning into his mind:

*Winter 2018 — May Mr. Harrington’s wishes come true. May the Harrington family be blessed with health and happiness.*

It matched her words, letter for letter.

Darren’s thoughts erupted in a storm of confusion.

2018? Back then, he hadn’t even known the name “Charlotte.” How could she have possibly been wishing him well?

He suddenly looked up, eyes sweeping over the hundreds—no, thousands—of wish plaques hanging all around.

He reached out and unhooked the nearest one, reading:

*Autumn 2017 — Darren, may all your hopes be fulfilled.*

His pupils contracted. Almost involuntarily, his hand moved again, and under Charlotte’s calm, unwavering gaze, he began taking down plaque after plaque:

*Summer 2016 — Mr. Harrington, may your career flourish.*

*Spring 2015 — Darren, wishing you good health and peace.*

*Winter 2014 — Mr. Harrington, may you be safe, year after year.*

The further back he went, the older and more faded the plaques became. The handwriting shifted from hesitant to steady, but one thing never changed—each was addressed to Darren, or to Mr. Harrington.

But Herbert’s name? Not once. Not a single plaque.

Suddenly, Darren’s hand closed around a newer plaque, and he found himself staring at a message that hit him like a blow:

Because she no longer loved him, she could finally peel back all the longing she’d buried in her heart, tear it apart, and destroy it right in front of him.

What surprised Charlotte, though, was that his reaction was more intense than she’d ever imagined.

“Lottie!” Darren’s grip tightened painfully around her arm, his eyes shining red. “I’m asking you one last time—where is she?”

She replied, “Mr. Harrington, she asked me to take care of something for her. When I’m finished, she’ll see you.”

He pressed, desperate: “What is it?”

Charlotte refused to answer. She didn’t even look at him again. Instead, she turned to Mr. Temple, who had been silently standing by, and spoke with quiet resolve, “Mr. Temple, please—let me burn these three thousand wish plaques.”

“What?” Mr. Temple was so stunned, he thought he’d misheard. “If you burn them, all those wishes—all those prayers—will be lost forever!”

“I know.” Charlotte’s voice was steady, without a hint of emotion. “Please, Mr. Temple. Allow me.”