Charles smelled a cold medicinal scent, and Anderson immediately let go of her. Even if it was an illusion, he was only bewildered for a few seconds, as every part of him was telling him: the person before him was not Rosie.
Rosie didn't have a medicinal scent; she liked fruity scents, preferring warm citrus notes.
Thinking of this, the man's eyes suddenly turned red, his broad shoulders looking sharp due to weight loss. He slightly shrugged his shoulders, murmuring, "You're not her."
Grace's eyes grew warm. She had always been a rational person, but those few seconds when Charles embraced her seemed to carve a fissure in her iron-clad heart, letting a ray of warm sunshine seep in.
The restraint she had held for so long collapsed in an instant.
The woman's hand gently caressed the man's face, softly rubbing without daring to exert pressure, carefully nurturing the new sprout growing in her heart.
