Charlotte Miller looked at Atlas Hallow, her smile appearing tranquil and faint, so subtle that it lingered only at the corners of her eyes.
Yet this kind of gentle smile pierced Atlas Hallow deeply, leaving him unsure of how to comfort, or whether he should continue to feel angry.
He stood opposite her, bathed in morning light, a tall and elegant figure reflected in the glass window appearing both graceful and lonely.
The morning air carried her familiar layered musk scent, pervading Ethan Baird's lungs and blood vessels; seeing the man's rebellious back, Charlotte's nose tingled with a spontaneous ache.
She didn't want this sentimentality, but all the anxiety and sensitivity locked her lips at this moment, leaving her unable to ask him whether he loved just the child, while she was merely a vessel to nurture it.
This was the terrifying doubt lingering in Charlotte's heart for a long time; perhaps a man's eagerness to marry is most due to a child?
