Those fictitious stories could take Yanarym away from reality before, from her past life. Everyone needs a getaway, even if it's just imagination or an illusion. And that was probably her escape.
Three consecutive gunshots were heard as soon as they entered the shooting range. A lone man was standing and in a flawless position of holding and aiming the gun on the target.
"Oh my god, is that him?" Rachelle exclaimed when they entered the shooting range. Looking directly at the young man who was wearing a plain white shirt and geared up. Male lead aura, Yanarym could discern that he is Lawrence Marshall.
His very description, jet-black hair, thick arched eyebrows, pointy nose, and defined jaw. The luscious lips with his bright alluring smile. Should she describe his body? There's no need for it, he's literally a human living statue of Adonis.
