"Is your hand better?" The old lady picked up her teacup and took a sip.
Cynthia felt a little embarrassed and retracted her hand with a smile. "It was just a small scratch. Thank you for your concern."
"Tristan arranged for Max to go to the pharmacy overnight to get medicine. I thought the injury was severe, so I was worried all night. But now that you say it, I feel relieved." The old lady put down her teacup, and a hint of profound and inscrutable smile appeared on her lips. "After all these years, this is the first time I've seen Tristan so concerned about someone."
It had been a long time since she felt Tristan's care and concern for someone.
Upon hearing this, Cynthia lowered her eyelashes and her fingertips curled slightly, revealing a slight tremor in her eyelashes, betraying a trace of inner turmoil.
When Tristan returned to the living room, Cynthia took her leave.