Hannah's face was pale, only when she got closer could she see the bruises at the corners of the young man's mouth and the wound on his forehead.
He looked somewhat disheveled.
She bit her lower lip, turning it white, seemingly in sympathy, "I'm sorry, I..."
I really want to laugh.
She paused mid-sentence, blinked her eyes, suppressing the schadenfreude that was surfacing and replaced it with concern and worry.
Walking briefly under the streetlight, the warm yellow light revealed the girl's worry on her face.
Louis Snyder turned to the side, the hand holding the umbrella tightened, a flutter of emotion passing over his heart.
It was faint, like a spring breeze brushing the face, bringing a hint of warmth to the cold night.
However, he quickly recovered, removing the smile at the corner of his mouth. His words carried a hint of concealment, "It has nothing to do with you."
