The next morning, I drew the curtains open—only to find Soren kneeling at my doorstep.
It was pouring outside, but he made no effort to shield himself. He just knelt there, unmoving, letting the rain drench him completely.
His face was haggard and drawn. At this rate, he looked nothing like the confident, composed man I saw yesterday.
It seemed as if he'd aged overnight.
I stared at him, not the least bit shaken.
At first, I didn't intend to acknowledge him. But he seemed determined to stay there, no matter what. He didn't budge an inch; even when night fell, he remained at the same spot.
I let out a sigh of resignation and stepped outside.
The moment Soren saw me, a flicker of hope lit up in his eyes.
He looked at me, his gaze full of affection. "Lyra, I knew you still cared. Otherwise, you wouldn't have come out to see me."
I frowned and tried to shake off his hand, but he only tightened his grip.
Pulling out the album I'd thrown away yesterday, he started flipping
