Clara retorted, "Didn't you say that was your house, and I didn't even have the right to control who you brought home?"
Rhys listened, his expression darkening.
She still remembered that sentence.
Why had he ever said something like that?
Seeing the stall, Daniel urged, "Mr. Huntington, my client has clearly expressed her wishes. Please sign. Let's not waste everyone's time."
Rhys silently picked up the pen. It took him a long moment before he signed his name.
When the procedures were done and they walked out of the lobby, the sunlight was so bright it made him dizzy.
He chased a few steps after her, blocking Clara's path.
"Clara..."
He called out of habit, realizing it was wrong as soon as it left his mouth. He corrected himself with difficulty, "Clara, could you accompany Grandfather for a meal tonight?"
"No," Clara refused. "As for the Huntington family, please explain it clearly yourself, Mr. Huntington."
Rhys knew this would be the answer. He asked again, "Then... can I have one more hug?"
He stood at the bottom of the steps, his voice very low.
"The last time."
Clara looked down at him.
This man—she had loved him for five years, chased him for five years, and waited for him for five years.
To say she felt no heartache seeing him like this would be a lie.
But compared to the pain, her heart felt colder.
"Fine."
Clara gave a faint response and opened her arms slightly.
Rhys's eyes lit up. He stepped in and held her like he was afraid she’d vanish if he let go.
He held on too tight, like he was trying to memorize the shape of her.
The familiar scent enveloped Clara.
It was the scent she had craved the most, the warmth she would wait hours in the snow just to absorb.
Rhys lowered his forehead to her shoulder, breathing her in like he needed it to stay upright. "Clara..."
But just as he opened his mouth, a sudden wave of nausea rose in Clara’s throat.
"Ugh..."


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