Living Under the Same Roof
“Do you want to tell me?”
Tristan asked in response.
Before Cynthia could answer, he continued, “If you want to tell me, I am willing to listen. If not, I won't ask.”
Though his words were gentle, they carried a forceful dominance that pierced straight into her heart.
Cynthia's heart trembled fiercely, and she pressed her lips together.
After a moment of contemplation, she spoke softly, “In my memory, my mother rarely smiled, except when I played the violin. And this particular piece happened to be her favorite. Whenever I played it, her gaze would become exceptionally tender, and a smile would unconsciously appear on her face. Sometimes, she would even accompany me on the piano.”