The words "on the way" instantaneously created a distance between the two.
Owen Moreland turned his head, his deep gaze unblinkingly fixed on her.
Amelia Clarke summoned her courage and, facing his unfathomable eyes, continued, "I'm afraid Miss Abel might misunderstand, which could trouble you."
Owen Moreland was a smart man.
Some things didn't need to be spelled out. He would understand.
After speaking, Amelia Clarke nodded at him, opened the car door, and got out.
He had a girlfriend now, and she, harboring feelings for him that couldn't be expressed to others, shouldn't ride in his car anymore.
It was inappropriate, both emotionally and rationally.
Moreover, her heart ached.
It really hurt.
Amelia Clarke bit her lip, looked down, and walked towards the gate, her grip on her backpack strap turning her knuckles white.
But she had barely taken a few steps.
Her wrist was suddenly seized by someone.
