In the empty living room, the echo of Yancy Hastings's footsteps reverberated, resonating deep within Evelyn Peary's heart.
He was still in his camouflage suit, concealing his robust muscles.
He exuded an aura that only a true man of iron will could possess. His pace seemed slow, yet his strides were large, and in no time, he was standing before Evelyn Peary.
"Um..." This is so awkward, Evelyn Peary thought, breaking the silence first. She even considered greeting Yancy Hastings with feigned surprise, What a coincidence, you're here too?
"Do you hate me that much?" Yancy Hastings frowned, his tanned, healthy skin making it hard to read his expression. His brows were tightly knitted, his eyes slightly narrowed.
"Not at all," Evelyn Peary quickly replied. How could I possibly hate him? We've known each other for so long and were very close, even though we haven't met in ages. That childhood bond is still there, more or less.
