He Loves The Ancient Soul In My Body Chapter 05

He Loves The Ancient Soul In My Body Chapter 05

Christopher’s smile faded bit by bit as he stumbled back a step and shook his head.

“No. That’s impossible.”

“My Charlotte is beautiful. There’s no way she would look like… like you.”

The expression on Christopher’s face hovered between disbelief and disgust.

But he still told himself he must have been mistaken.

He even grabbed the doorframe and leaned forward to look inside.

“Charlotte, I know you’re in there!”

“Are you playing a trick on me? You’re a duchess. There’s no way you look like that. Did you send your maid out first to mess with me?”

Christopher’s voice got louder and more frantic.

I had almost forgotten, Christopher had been shallow about looks since he was a kid.

When he was five, he grabbed my braid and said he was going to marry me because I was pretty.

When we were teenagers, I broke out in pimples all over my face.

That was the most distant Christopher ever became toward me. He would walk the other way

whenever he saw me after school.

But every time he looked into my bright eyes, he couldn’t walk away.

He would just sigh and say, “Damn it. I’m really stuck on you for life.”

He always said my looks could outshine any other woman’s.

So on our wedding day, he looked at my face and made a vow. “I, Christopher Bennett, swear that if I ever cheat on my beautiful wife Emily Harrison, may I be struck by lightning.”

So when the freckled girl appeared in front of him, without even thinking, Christopher denied the

possibility that she was Charlotte.

But when the freckled girl saw how Christopher reacted, her eyes turned red and she started to cry.

“Christopher, you lied to me. You said you would accept me no matter what I looked like.”

She married for love, but he wed her to save his first love. Heartbroken, she…

—

“You really think I’m ugly!”

Christopher froze.

He stared at the freckled girl crying in front of him, opening his mouth, then closing it, then

opening it again.

“You… you’re really Charlotte?”

Charlotte nodded vigorously, tears making her freckles glisten.

“Christopher, don’t you remember?”

“Last year on Valentine’s Day, I sewed a little pouch for you by hand. It had two lovebirds on it. You said it was ugly and that people don’t carry those anymore.”

“But you still wore it on your belt every day. Then you lost it, and you were so sad for so long.”

“Enough.”

Christopher cut her off impatiently.

Of course he remembered.

Because he had always thought that pouch was sewn by the Duchess of Crestwood.

A duchess born with a silver spoon in her mouth, willing to sew for him, he was so touched.

But now he was being told that the girl with this face had sewn that pouch?

Christopher took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.

He told himself he couldn’t judge by appearances, that he wasn’t that kind of person. But he just

couldn’t get past it.

For the past year, he had imagined meeting Charlotte again a thousand times.

In his imagination, she wore elegant noble clothes, and her features were like a painting.

She called him “Christopher” in a playful voice and threw herself into his arms.

He had even thought she might not look as good as the portraits, but at least she would be cute.

Not this.

Not this.

Christopher closed his eyes, and his voice came out dry and rough.

“Stop crying first. Let me ask you something. Where’s Emily? Did she go through?”