Chapter 274

The photo album contained her most precious memories. Jason frowned. "Are you giving up your life for a photo album? You were lucky yesterday; you only have some bruises on your fingers. What if you'd really burned yourself?"

"This album means a lot to me!" Grace said.

"Can it be more important than your hands? Are you going to lose your hands just to protect a photo album?" His voice deepened.

"It's very important. Even if both my hands were burned, I'd still want to keep it," Grace said, taking a deep breath. To her, it was a cherished remembrance, an obsession. It represented the best family affection she had ever known and the happiest time of her life.

Her answer paled him; he felt a surge of anger at her lack of self-preservation. He cared more about her safety than she did. He couldn't bear to see her hurt, even slightly.

"Where's my photo album?" she asked eagerly.

Jason exhaled, stood up, walked to a nearby cabinet, and handed her the partially burned album.

Grace breathed a sigh of relief and cautiously opened it. Looking at the photos, her eyes welled up again. Some were completely burned, some burned at the edges, and others partially damaged. Only about a quarter remained intact. Each page turn seemed to require immense perseverance to endure the pain. It hadn't occurred to her that she couldn't even protect a photo album.

Closing it, she muttered, "Thank you."

"What?" he asked.

"Thank you for taking me to the hospital last night. I got a little out of control," she said, a little embarrassed. Scenes from the previous night flashed through her mind. She wouldn't have rushed into his arms to cry if she'd been in her right mind, but yesterday, she'd clung to him like driftwood.

"Then from now on, only I can see you when you lose control like that," he whispered, bending down. This wasn't a question, but a statement.

Grace gasped. Jason looked down at her gauze-covered fingers. "If you have trouble in the future, tell me. Don't rush in yourself. Also, since your hand is injured, I've applied for a leave of absence at the Sanitation Service Center. You can rest at home for a few days."

Home? She was stunned, then a trace of bitterness touched her heart. She had no home, or rather, no home in the city.

"I'm always asking for leave. The supervisor will probably find it troublesome and fire me eventually," Grace said. She'd already taken a long vacation before Chinese New Year. Road sweepers had responsibilities; her absence meant extra work for her colleagues.