His profile appeared serene and profound, his refined features exuding an aristocratic elegance. Perhaps it was the lighting or his softened tone, but in that moment, Cynthia found him oddly… captivating.
Then, she saw something even more surprising: a gentle smile spread across his face.
"I'm out handling something right now…" he murmured into the phone. Cynthia caught a hint of a woman's voice on the other end. Whatever the woman said made him sigh with indulgent affection.
"Be good. I'll come see you tonight. Wait for me."
Watching him whispering sweetly, Cynthia felt a quiet ache in her chest.
Why did it seem that every man she encountered had someone else in his heart? Whether they loved or despised that woman, whether there was warmth or coldness in their feelings, they always belonged, in some way, to those women.
