You're Not Married Me Yet, How Can I Die?

Driven by curiosity, Cynthia searched for “Tristan Ford” on her phone.

As expected, a blank page appeared with the message: “Sorry, no information related to ‘Tristan Ford' found.”

A slight smirk tugged at the corner of Cynthia's lips. “He's quite mysterious.”

She closed the page and opened her Instagram, where her chat with Tristan was still open, last left at his message: “Rest early, don't worry.”

Cynthia pursed her lips, suppressing the smile that threatened to form, and lay back on her bed with a sigh.

So, this was what longing felt like.

The next morning, Cynthia went to work as usual.

In the meeting room, she supported her forehead with one hand and listened quietly as the department head reported.

Under Cynthia's watchful gaze, the department head was extremely cautious while presenting, afraid of saying something wrong.

Just then, her phone rang. She quickly picked it up and saw that it was Tristan calling.