Tristan slowly stood up, tried to walk closer, raised his hand to touch her, but retracted his hand when it reached her shoulder.
If this was a beautiful dream, let it last forever. Don't destroy it, just watch it from a close distance.
The autumn wind blew their clothes and hair, and their eyes met, filled with indescribable tenderness.
Ava smiled and looked at the still handsome Tristan, and asked softly, "Tristan... why are you here?"
The voice in the dream was so clear that even he couldn't tell whether it was a dream or reality. "I'm waiting for you!"
He had been waiting, every Sunday for three years, and I have gotten used to sitting alone beside the McDonald's, missing and waiting for her.
Ava's heart trembled when she heard what Tristan blurted out. Waiting for her?
No one should know that she had returned to America, so how could he know that she would return to West Street?
