Tristan had woken up by the dazzling ray of sunlight through his open window.
Again, the silence of his room caused the sleeping agony within him to resurface; reality kept on knocking on his head—memories of Summer flashed through his mind.
"Tristan?" Trish called outside his room. He glanced at his door and sighed.
"Tristan? Are you still sleeping? Tristan?" Trish continuously thumped his door.
He stood up and opened his door. The worried expression on Trish's face greeted him at the doorstep.
"I'm awake," he told which made Trish sigh in relief.
"Thank goodness. I thought—" she halted as she felt Tristan's palm on her shoulder. She confusedly stared at him.
"That won't happen again. Don't worry." Tristan removed his hand and walked out of his room. "Have you had breakfast?"
Trish followed his steps. "Not yet. I want to eat breakfast with you."
They both paced towards the kitchen and saw the maids already prepared the table. One of the maids looked at them and smiled.
