The man stood before the slightly ajar door. He neither pushed it open nor disturbed her. Instead, he leaned lazily against the wall, his hands tucked in his pockets. His long, deep-set eyes grew darker, holding only her in their depths. His handsome face softened with uncharacteristic gentleness.
She rarely smiled. In her younger days, it was because of her shy and insecure nature—she was like a wooden figure. Later, as she grew up, her personality turned colder, and smiles became even scarcer.
Ignatius Leclair gazed at the rare smile playing at the corners of her lips. He wanted to walk over, pull her into his arms, and run his fingers through her soft hair.
But the man held himself back.
"Delphine, how long are you planning to rest? Recently, the Fruit Channel invited the production team to be on their variety show. If your schedule doesn't allow it, I can turn it down," Miss Zhao asked.
