Just as Charlotte Thompson was feeling suffocated, the man reluctantly let her go. There was a touch of tenderness in his eyes and, subtly, a hint of heartache in his tone.
"No more crying," he said. "I didn't tell you all of this to make you cry."
At his words, Charlotte hurriedly sat up, hastily pulled out a couple of tissues from the bedside table to wipe her face. Her eyes were still red. She turned away, giving a light cough and quickly said, "I'm going to wash my face."
With that, she hastily escaped from the charged atmosphere.
Justin Battleson gently sat up, leaning against the pillow behind him. He watched Charlotte's retreating figure - no matter how you looked, it seemed like a hasty retreat - and felt inexplicably pleased. The gloominess in his heart, which had been accumulating for days, seemed to be swept away by sunshine.
He hooked his lips into a smile and looked out the window.