After hanging up the phone, Christopher looked at Aunt Harper, his expression unchanging and his heart unflustered, "Go wake Hope up and tell her that mommy is coming."
"Okay, Mr. Hart," Aunt Harper replied with an inscrutable expression, careful not to show anything, and quickly went upstairs to call the child.
The kitchen was busy preparing a lavish breakfast, all the favorites of a certain someone.
Mr. Hart sat at the dining table, gazing at the high clear skies outside, replaying in his mind the sight of that woman standing under the spotlight, her whole being shimmering, the night before.
Past the age of thirty, the trajectory of his life had long since been set; the desire for life and love, from the fervent clamor of his reckless youth, had gradually settled into tranquility.
In these past few years, Lily Garcia had clung to his side, offering herself up more times than he could count.