I Come to Prove to You
The room's luminous glass windows, bathed in the glow of the lights, resembling a transparent mirror.
Cynthia could vividly witness the scene of Tristan holding a hair dryer, his movements gentle as he dried her hair.
It must be said that this man possessed an unparalleled countenance, making anything he did a sight to behold.
Even in this moment, wielding the hair dryer, he exuded an air of ease, elegance, and nobility.
“If you keep gazing at me like this, I won't be able to hold back,” Tristan lifted his hand, gently sweeping away strands of hair from her face.
His magnetic voice carried a unique penetrating power, resonating in the chambers of her heart.
Cynthia couldn't help but turn her head and steal a glance at him.
However, he caught her wandering gaze, his palm returning her head to its previous position.
“Don't move.”
Silence enveloped them, while the faint hum of the hair dryer lingered in the background.