The girl’s eyes were a blur of confusion, her red lips parted slightly as she took in a breath of cold air, and then belatedly realized she should respond.
"Arnold, could you be overthinking this?"
It seems love truly can make one’s intelligence drop.
Even soone like Arnold couldn’t avoid it.
Was the trope of a stand-in lover really that popular?
And to say Jimmy and Arnold looked alike was simply conjured out of thin air; there wasn’t the slightest resemblance between them.
Arnold’s gaze remained unflinching. "You’ve said before that you liked my face."
Hannah, perplexed, "Did I?"
Arnold nodded.
Hannah felt Arnold must have had a big box sowhere with all their conversations stored inside.
Arnold, with an unchanged expression, uttered another sentence, "He’s younger than , too."
Hannah instinctively retorted in a small voice, "He’s only a few years older."
After she finished speaking, she looked up at the man’s expression and quickly corrected herself, "It doesn’t matter, I like older n."
No sooner had the words left her mouth than she felt like a fool.
The man chuckled softly, tenderly caressing the girl’s small hand, his eyes brimming with affection, while his aura was so dangerously compelling that one wanted to flee.
He seed to consider the three words carefully and spoke with a hidden depth, "Older n?"
Hannah hastily covered the man’s mouth, putting on a pitiful face, begging with a playful tone, "Listen to explain, I..."
"Mmm, I’m listening," the man leaned in, his voice as deep as the night sky, the words that followed drowned out.
Before long, angry accusations tinged with a sobbing tone echoed from the closed study, "Arnold, you son of a bitch."
The man responded in a low voice filled with indulgence and tenderness, but his hands did not stop.
At first, she had the energy to curse, but soon Hannah could no longer hold out and began to plead.
"Arnold, I don’t like him... honestly, it was just curiosity that made take a glance... I won’t do it again..."
She cried softly, her voice as fragile as if made of water.
Tears fell on her hands, cool to the touch, yet her heart was burning hot.
Arnold sighed helplessly, wiping away the tears on the young girl’s face, "Why do you always cry?"
Hannah seized the opportunity to push him away, and Arnold didn’t avoid her, falling aside with the montum of her push.
She wanted to run but couldn’t muster the strength, and at last, she could only bite Arnold’s hand she was holding. The tears stopped, but her voice remained soft and hoarse, "Arnold, you’re too domineering."
He comforted her as he pulled her into his embrace, rubbing her head, "I’m sorry."
Hannah used his shirt to wipe her tears, "I don’t want your apology."
Arnold looked down at the tear stains on his shirt, unconcerned, "Then what do you want, you just said..."
"Shut up!"
"Alright, my mistake."
Hannah huffed twice, then crawled to the other side of the couch to distance herself from Arnold, feeling his intense gaze upon her. She pulled her clothes tighter around herself.
"You need to learn to control yourself."
Arnold, looking serious but with a smile, "I’ve controlled myself quite a bit already."
Hannah glared at him, her weak glare ineffective, like a cat without claws.
Arnold stopped speaking.
Then Hannah started again, "I said I don’t like him, how could I like soone who has hurt you? It’d only make hate him more."
She counted on her fingers.
Her hair was ssy, her cheeks flushed, yet her tone was incredibly serious and solemn, not even noticing when Arnold had approached.
When she finally realized and thought to escape, she was once again embraced by the man.
She struggled a bit, then suddenly stopped moving and obediently stayed in his arms, all because she heard him say one thing.
"I’m sorry, I’m just a little scared."
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