Camille's POVI had lowered my head, unable to argue, because Henry was right.Over time, we gradually became friends. Whenever I had free time, I'd swing by his clinic, always bringing desserts I had made myself.But having grown up in the lap of luxury, Henry was notoriously particular about what he ate.If he didn't like what I'd made, he didn't bother with politeness."What the hell is this? Even my dog wouldn't eat it. Take it away. Now."Oddly enough, I found his bluntness refreshing.Every time, I would seriously ask him, "Then what flavors do you like? I'll make changes next time."He ended up rattling off all his preferences without holding back, while I carefully wrote down every single one in my notebook.Little by little, he started enjoying the desserts and other food I made for him.Henry felt like a grandfather to me.And he treated me like a dear friend. A few days ago, he told me he'd decided to close his clinic and head back to run the Ashvein Institute of Healing. H
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