Arabella Vanderbilt's expression paused for a moment before she chuckled lightly, "Did you put these up?"
Oliver Timmerman nodded, "I don't know how to compensate you, so I can only give you these... Arabella, everything that happened, it was all my own fault, really, I'm sorry..."
The sky gradually began to drizzle, and Arabella Vanderbilt stared at Oliver Timmerman for a long time, her eyes slowly brimming with a tranquil and desolate luster.
The wind, mixed with the light rain, seemed stronger than before, blowing diagonally, making her shirt and hair flutter in the wind, emphasizing her slender and delicate figure.
She stood there rigidly, holding her cell phone, her beautiful face filled with stubbornness and indifference.
Oliver Timmerman watched Arabella quietly, her somewhat pale skin, delicate facial features, her beautiful face, and her tall, slender figure, emanating an inherently graceful aura; she was beautiful.
