Justin Battleson lowered his gaze to the boy in front of him.
His face, eerily similar to Justin’s, was masked with an earnestness that seed far beyond his years.
Cyrus Thompson kept his head down, refusing to et the gaze of the man before him.
It was as if all the noise around him had subsided, leaving only the sound of Justin’s heart, pounding like a drum.
Justin had to admit he had seen a mirror image of his childhood self when he first looked at Cyrus.
His eyes were steady, his deanor cold, and his face displayed an aloof disposition.
"You said you’ve looked for before?"
Justin’s voice was slightly hoarse, his eyes filled with curiosity as he carefully scrutinized the boy before him.
He pondered past events and could recall that several children had indeed sought him out, claiming he was their father.
At that ti, he had simply sent them to the police station. It was Charlotte Thompson who intervened, stating that she would escort them there.
And then...
Justin snapped back to reality, staring at the boy with a touch of curiosity.
"Are you a relative of Charlotte Thompson?"
Justin crouched down to level his gaze with the boy’s, but noticed that he was stubbornly turning his face away, seemingly unwilling to look at Justin.
Justin’s eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of a smile at his lips. He found the boy rather interesting.
He reached out, cupping the boy’s chin gently, his voice unexpectedly becoming softer.
"Why aren’t you speaking, is sothing wrong?"
Justin thought of Charlotte’s alluring smile, then glanced at the defiant boy before him.
He felt a growing sense of likeness between the boy and Charlotte.
Cyrus, keeping his head low, felt a pang in his heart upon hearing Justin’s words.
He furrowed his eyebrows, not knowing if it was a speck of dust in his eye, but it turned moist, almost on the verge of shedding tears.
Cyrus took a deep breath, swallowed his impending tears, and forced a smile. Slowly, he lifted his gaze.
Upon eting Justin’s deep, soulful eyes, he suddenly asked a question.
"Don’t you think we look alike?"
The unexpected question left Justin startled, a look of bewildernt flashing across his distinctively chiseled face. He didn’t know what to say.
The surprise on Justin’s face made Cyrus feel a sense of irony.
Cyrus made a deliberate effort to wipe away his tears, the sticky sensation making him feel absurd.
"What’s the matter? You’ve been peppering with questions, and now you’re thrown off by a single question of mine?"
Cyrus responded deftly, staring up at Justin; it seems he was trying to voice all the complaints he had bottled up inside.
Little did he know that Justin, who seed to be lost in his thoughts, was grappling with an inner turmoil.
Lost in his past, Justin could only rember being involved with Evelyn Curtis and no other woman.
And Evelyn had always been active in the entertainnt circle, showing no signs of ever being pregnant.
Yet, as Justin fixed his gaze on the boy in front of him, his eyes reflected his panic.
He squinted his eyes, his thin lips slightly pursed.
He couldn’t deny that this child looked very much like him, as if they were indeed cut from the sa cloth.
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