In the car, Guinevere thought that she had finally gotten used to the quiet atmosphere between them, but it suddenly occurred to her, right when the air around her became suffocating—she and Weston had gotten to the point of having nothing to talk about. Previously, she could sweep things under the rug, turning a blind eye toward the truth of the matter, but Ella’s appearance was the last straw that broke the camel’s back. She stared at the hard, unflinching look on the face of the man seated next to her. It was as if nothing could move his stony heart. He had always been like this, sitting silently by himself. No one else could figure out what was on his mind. Back then, she had fallen so hard for that mysterious, deep look in his eyes. Yet now, she hated the cold divide he had erected between them. Finally, when she could bear it no longer, she decided to be the first to break the silence. “Don’t you have anything to tell me?” It had always been like that. Between the two
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