The noisy night had a gentle breeze, a bright moon, and the man's soft, deep whispers.
It was as if the most mundane yet beautiful moments of life were presented before them, making it hard to disrupt such an atmosphere.
She knew that if she didn't think or care about anything, by reaching out to grasp the man's hand extending towards her, she could be very happy.
But she couldn't help it; she couldn't help but want to ask—Edward Stephens, do you really know that the mastermind behind my mother's death was Robert Stephens?
You know everything, how can you say nothing...
This man could bare his heart for her but could also hide the deepest secrets. If he wished, he could keep those secrets for a lifetime.
He was innocent, yet seemed not so innocent. She couldn't place her hatred on him, yet couldn't fully trust him either.
Perhaps, in the end, they were simply not suitable for each other.
