Oliver Shaw arrived in high spirits, not expecting to encounter his own son in such a modest restaurant. The smile on his face froze, and when he met his son's gaze, his legs felt as if they were filled with lead, fixing him to the spot, standing in the middle of the restaurant, forgetting to react.
The father and son stared at each other, neither speaking, one narrowing his peach-blossom eyes, the other looking utterly shocked.
"Uncle Shaw," Mia Foster murmured instinctively, then glanced again at the booth next door.
Seraphina Shaw was still murmuring, "Mom, it's been so long, why isn't Dad here yet? Soon Seraphina will be full,"
"Well, just rest for a bit, and wait until Dad arrives to eat," Vanessa Armstrong gently advised. Seraphina put down her chopsticks, crossed her arms on the table, "Alright, then I'll wait for Dad for a while."
