Chapter One Hundred-Fifty Two

There was Roth who could not even pretend to care about Tristan, and then there was Oliver, who was willing to sacrifice his sleep for him. Tristan knew if he would ask Oliver to pull up to his house at that time, Oliver would be there without a question.

Tristan took a deep breath, “Thank you, Oliver.” He meant it.

“Are you okay, Tristan?” Oliver did not sound sleepy anymore, rather he seemed genuinely concerned. His concern broke all dams that Tristan had been trying to build before his tears.

Oliver spoke again when his previous question was met with no response, “Tristan, seriously, I am worried, what’s up?” And he did sound worried, but who was going to tell him that Tristan was crying soundlessly on the other end.

Then Tristan did the stupidest thing that he could do at that moment - he ended the call, and while doing so, he completely forgot that the person on the other end was not Roth, it was Oliver.

Oliver, who put Tristan even over his own happiness and comfort, and Oli