Chapter 143

Ronan looked up abruptly, searching for those familiar eyes from his memories.

The eyes that had once looked at him with tenderness.

He nervously scanned the surroundings, but amidst the crowd, he couldn't find those eyes.

He sighed softly, his thoughts racing.

After all, Lyra had been dead for five years.

How could she possibly be at Grandfather's funeral?

Perhaps she was here to pay her respects to Grandfather, her soul drifting here to bid him farewell!

Ronan felt as though an invisible hand had clenched his heart tightly.

He whispered gently, "Lyra, do you still hate me? Why have you never come to see me?"

Lyra nervously left the chapel.

She felt a bit dazed as if she had seen Ronan.

But before he could see her, she quickly turned and left.

Five years had passed, and he seemed thinner, more mature.

Over the years, the hatred in her heart had gradually begun to dissipate.

Perhaps, if