The sky was filled with countless twinkling stars, with faint traces of ink-colored clouds etched overhead. Framed by a cluster of stars was a round moon, its pure, white light dappling down, merging with the white light of the street lamp.
Yet, the street lamp's light seemed to give off some coldness, while the moonlight brought an inexplicable warmth.
A small smile lifted the corner of Henry Hudson's lips as he softly said, "Charlotte, it was too crowded at home earlier, so there were things I couldn't discuss with you directly. But now, the more I think about it, the more I feel I should say it."
At his words, Charlotte Thompson closed her eyes for a moment. She responded softly, "Go ahead, I'm listening."
As her words fell, a faint smile lingered on the corner of Henry's mouth, his voice lighter than the breeze.
"Charlotte, you probably don't know this, but when you and Jordan were cooking in the kitchen, the every word Grace spoke to me involved the word 'Dad'."