Such cold brows and eyes, the sculpted features, were exactly the same as in memory, unchanged in the slightest.
Even with just one photo, devoid of any trace of a smile, it was apparent that his temperament had become even more indifferent than before, emanating a cold aura of unapproachability.
Ariel Morris's fingertips lightly grazed over the photo on the paper, gently stroking between the brows and eyes, softly murmuring, "Arlo Seys, these years, have you been well?"
Looking at his photo, recalling his aversion and coldness upon their meeting, Ariel Morris felt extreme discomfort in her heart.
Eighteen years after parting, upon reuniting, she didn't even dare to ask, Arlo Seys, do you hate me?
He probably does hate me, his attitude when they met said it all.
Actually, Ariel Morris, it's all your own doing, this is karma.
"Ariel Morris!"
The sound of the door being pushed open came with a dissatisfied yell.
