Looking at the photos before her, Aria Grant knew that she must be sick, for there was no gasping despair in her heart, no breakdown, just appreciation.
She admired the man who once belonged to her dancing with another woman, in the photos they were at a posh and elegant ball, looking like a prince and princess, all eyes on them.
Maybe she was looking too deeply, Aria Grant, in a daze at the ballroom, seemed to have a moment of fog, she lifted her own phone and recorded their happiness too.
How bewitched she must have been, otherwise why would she also hear the sweet music in her ears?
"What are you doing right now? If you're feeling upset, I can come to find you right now, as long as you need me by your side."
Aria Grant looked at the message that Thomas Yates had sent her, how ridiculous, if these were to rub salt in her wounds, then the one making the action was clearly him, so why was he still pretending to be on the side of righteousness here?
