The person seemed afraid of disturbing them, whispering the name. The sound was faint, yet it landed with resounding force.
The moment the name was spoken, a buzzing sound filled Ian Sinclair's ears.
It had been a very, very long time since he'd heard anyone else say that name.
For two short months, he had spoken her name constantly, trying to create the illusion that she wasn't dead, that she was still here.
But no one else had uttered her name in his presence.
In that moment, he didn't even dare to turn around.
He knew it couldn't be her, yet a sliver of hope persisted. His heart hammered against his ribs, threatening to burst from his chest.
As he finally turned, he could feel a thin layer of sweat break out on his back.
But it was too late. All he caught was a glimpse of the girl's hem.
She had already vanished through the doorway.
Ian Sinclair's lips quirked. 'Maybe it's just a coincidence, someone with the same name.'
