He Has Lost the Right to Approach

Cynthia thought to herself that she was truly being pathetic. But sometimes, that's just how it is. When faced with the person she loved, she kept giving in again and again, softening every time.

Her face, once bright and cheerful, was now clouded with a deep frown. Tristan let out a helpless chuckle from his throat. He bent down and embraced her again, closing his eyes slowly, breathing in her faint fragrance as if he were starved for it.

The room became quiet, but the silence didn't feel awkward or uncomfortable despite the lack of conversation.

After a long pause, Cynthia asked in a muffled tone, "How did you get hurt?"

Sensing the suppressed anger in her voice, Tristan didn't dare lie anymore. He responded honestly, "Gunshot wound."

At this, Cynthia frowned slightly. Max, Carl, and the others weren't amateurs; Tristan usually wouldn't get hurt so easily, and certainly not by a gunshot.