The thought left her utterly baffled.
She had never meant anything like that. Yes, Dr. Matthew did fit her old ideal type—the kind she had imagined back when she was younger and sillier.
Golden hair, blue eyes, the charming foreign aura… all of that had once sounded nice.
But that was years ago.
Now, if she thought about it carefully, she didn't really have an ideal type anymore.
Or rather, her ideal type of man had changed into someone else.
It just happened to be a certain cold-faced man with black hair and dark eyes, someone who loved to tease her and turned inexplicably childish the moment jealousy crept in. Someone who, at this very moment, was glaring at her like an abandoned puppy trying very hard not to look abandoned.
Her lips twitched.
What she had actually meant to say was simple—if her face weren't scarred, she would have asked Dr. Matthew for a photo. Maybe even taken a few selfies.
That was it. Nothing more.
