Remington was clueless about the turmoil inside Lizetta's heart. Seeing her relent and let go, a faint smile played on his lips, adding a touch of warmth to his usually reserved demeanor. He was gentle and meticulous in his movements, filling the room with nothing but the soft hum of the hairdryer.

Lizetta felt his fingertips gently weaving through her hair, occasionally massaging her scalp. It was comforting, familiar.

It brought back memories.

As a child, when Remington was in a good mood, a bit of pouting from her would have him drying her hair just like this.

But she did it for him more often than he did for her. He was always too impatient to dry his hair after a shower, and fearing he'd catch a cold, she would insist on drying it for him. Those warm, sweet memories felt both like honey and poison.

Catching a glimpse of him in the mirror, clad in a bathrobe, Lizetta realized she had overestimated herself.

She couldn't just pretend he was some random guy named Tony.

This kind of intimate atmosphere didn't suit them at all.

Her breathing grew uneven, and when Remington's fingertips accidentally brushed the skin behind her ear, she couldn't help but flinch.

The next second, the hairdryer was turned off.

The world seemed to fall silent, and Lizetta could hear her own heartbeat.

we done here? I'll go check if dinner's

tried to stand, Remington's hand pressed gently on her

"Why are you blushing?"

was a depth in Remington's gaze as he spoke, his hand

abruptly.

slightly, amused by

can't even treat me

a history. How can we move on separately? Don't

was

felt a wave of

I can't? Do I need to

all, it's been years of dove and hate. But that doesn't mean we can rekindle our relationship, nor does it mean my decision to leave

that, Lizetta turned

if I truly move on, marry someone else, and have children,

didn't look

I will wish you

words hit him like a thousand arrows, almost

mere thought of her with another

she

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