Fiona Sutton hadn’t expected to hear those words when she opened the door and walked in.
All the way here, she had been deluding herself, telling herself that Charles Northwood had gotten drunk purely because of Nia Mitchell—because he liked Nia Mitchell. But she hadn’t anticipated this... His distress, it turned out, was because of her; because she had confessed her feelings, that’s why he... She couldn’t accept it right away.
"Ah!? Fiona Sutton?" Tara Jason had had her eye on Charles Northwood for a long ti, so she naturally recognized Fiona Sutton.
"Who are you?" Fiona Sutton furrowed her brows. She didn’t recognize Tara Jason. How could she be with Charles Northwood?
"I’m Professor Northwood’s student. I saw him drunk at the bar and was worried he wouldn’t be safe alone, so I brought him back." Tara Jason explained hurriedly. Fiona Sutton listened as she walked over, her eyes filled with disbelief.
If Charles Northwood were that drunk, could he really have given his address? She guessed there was an eighty percent chance that this Tara Jason already knew where Charles Northwood lived.
"I’m here now. You can go." Fiona Sutton walked closer. Seeing Charles Northwood so intoxicated, she furrowed her brows in displeasure.
"My Knight, what are you doing drinking wine?" Fiona Sutton was very unhappy. Had she really caused him so much trouble?
"Why are you still here?" To Fiona Sutton, Tara Jason was a stranger; there was no need for her to stay. Besides, who knew what her intentions were?
Tara Jason hesitated for a mont, glancing at Charles Northwood several tis before finally taking her things and leaving.
Charles Northwood sat on the bed, gazing dazedly at Fiona Sutton.
"We’re still friends." That’s all he wanted: to have both Nia Mitchell and Fiona Sutton by his side.
Fiona Sutton turned her head away, unable to look at him like this. Perhaps her feelings had dood their friendship.
"Fine, My Knight. From today onward, we’re just friends—lifelong best friends." Fiona Sutton fought back the urge to cry. Forcing a smile, she looked at him.
Charles Northwood, I suddenly don’t feel jealous of Nia Mitchell anymore, nor will I feel heartbroken seeing you suppress your feelings for her. I’m starting to accept it, to accept fate’s arrangent. So emotions, perhaps, can only be buried deep in the heart to fernt slowly.
Charles Northwood lifted his head and looked directly into her eyes. Suddenly, his eyes reddened, and two streams of tears trickled down his face.
Fiona Sutton casually reached out and wiped his tears away. "What in the world are you crying for? Are you even a man? Even I’m not crying!"
She was the one whose heart was broken. What on earth was he crying for? He, the man pursued by so many, who had rejected her confession!
"I’m sorry. You’ll understand later. You’re not..."
"Alright, alright. Stop with that nonsense. You’re just rambling." Fiona Sutton waved her hand, cutting Charles Northwood off. He was just going to say she didn’t truly like him, wasn’t he? That sa old "we’re just friends" theory. It made her heart clench.
"I can’t tell if you’re really drunk or just pretending. Anyway, you should drink so milk and go to sleep. Or should I make you so soup to sober you up?"
Fiona Sutton was fond of wine, and getting drunk wasn’t uncommon for her. But Charles Northwood was different. He was such a restrained and gentle person; he rarely drank wine, let alone got drunk. He no longer carried that refreshing scent of a spring breeze; instead, there was the sll of wine. Finally, he seed a bit more human.
"No need to bother. I’m much more clear-headed now. I’ll be fine after so sleep."
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