Tristan was also a bit puzzled as he got out of the car.
In the yard, Algerone Swain looked up at them entering, "Tristan? Monica?" His slightly wrinkled face bore a joyful smile.
He hadn't seen his daughter for quite some time.
"Dad, what are you planting?" The girl bent down to take a closer look. Were these roses all over the yard??
"Roses," the middle-aged man happily told her. "These are all different varieties of roses." He could even imagine the scene a few months later when all the flowers would be in full bloom.
Tristan saw two words: romance.
Monica was very puzzled. She was a beat slow, "Why suddenly start planting roses? You're not of retirement age yet, are you? And such a big project..." It was simply astonishing.
Algerone gave an embarrassed smile. He didn't know how to answer for a moment. There were some things he didn't want to say, he just wanted to do them first.
Tristan, recalling the conversation from the other night, seemed to have figured something out. He leaned over and whispered in Monica's ear, "He might be doing it for your mom. Does your mom like roses?"
Monica was taken aback, then her eyes lit up. Before she could say anything, the phone in her pocket rang.
Seeing it was Belinda calling, she felt somewhat guilty since she was at her father's house; she didn't dare to answer.
Algerone Swain could tell something from his daughter's expression. The ringtone continued, and he guessed it was Belinda who was calling. He bent over and continued tending to his flower seedlings, remaining silent.
Tristan, tall and slender, also helped Uncle Swain with the plants. Neither of the two men planned to speak.
Monica understood. She slid her finger over the answer button, "Hello, Belinda." She didn't deliberately avoid it.
"Why did it take you so long to answer? What are you doing? Who are you with?" Belinda's distrustful voice came over, carrying a hint of displeasure, "You better come back."
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