The Delusional Dog-Like Man

Tristan pursed his lips, his arm tightening around her waist. He kissed her cheek and the corner of her temple, his voice gentle as he asked, “Come with me?”

The request was tempting for Cynthia, but her rationality gained the upper hand at the crucial moment. “I'll wait for you to come back.”

“I can't bear to be without you.” Tristan's palm cradled the nape of her neck, their foreheads touching as their breaths intertwined.

Likewise, Cynthia didn't want to be away from Tristan. She had already speculated after overhearing his conversation, but when he confirmed it himself, a sense of loss and reluctance overwhelmed her.

Cynthia's fingertips curled slightly, and she gently kissed Tristan's lips. “How long will you be gone?”

“I'm not sure,” Tristan replied. “Maybe two or three days, maybe a week.”

As the atmosphere in the car turned melancholic, Cynthia suddenly chuckled.