Jocelyn Was Made to Cry

Jocelyn lowered her head. From Aren's angle, he could see that the half of her face that was swollen and covered with ointment.

Normally, a face as such wouldn't be considered pretty, but Aren could find it particularly cute.

In fact, after Jocelyn explained herself, Aren felt like he was overwhelmed by sweetness, as if he had just eaten a sweet milk candy.

"So you weren't disliking me just now and you were just being shy?" Aren took a step towards Jocelyn's direction.

His eyes were still fixed on Jocelyn, looking like an inquisitive child.

Jocelyn curled up shyly on her bed like a shy herb.

At this moment, Jocelyn was not covered by the blanket. Her grip on the blanket kept tightening, and the neatly arranged blanket was destroyed by Jocelyn's nervous hands.

Jocelyn pursed her lips and refused to answer Aren's question.