She dared not look at him again, lowered her head, and pretended to adjust her sleeve, but her fingertips were slightly burning.
The feeling came too suddenly, catching her off guard.
Melanie stuffed the bowls and chopsticks into the dishwasher and looked up.
Seeing Tristan still there, she immediately leaned over to Vivian and whispered, "Why hasn't he left yet?"
Her voice was so low, it was almost squeezed out of her throat.
She glanced warily towards the living room, afraid of being overheard.
Although he cooked the meal and it tasted good,
every time she saw him, her heart would still panic.
It was an indescribable oppressive feeling.
When Tristan stood there, even the air seemed to thin out.
Vivian also lowered her voice, "I don't know either."
She actually hoped he would leave quickly so she could seize the chance to ask Melanie what really happened that night.
The intermittent sobs had left a heavy stone in her heart.
"Could it be... he really plans to stay?"
