The door creaked open.
But it wasn't her.
It was Laurent.
The flicker of hope in Morrison's eyes shattered into nothingness, leaving behind only a hollow ache that made his chest tighten. Laurent had come at Lilian's request—to help pack a few essentials for her journey abroad. Bert had insisted she bring nothing at all; he had everything waiting for her in America.
After all, Bert owned a fashion design company there. Clothes were the last thing Lilian would ever lack.
And yet, how could she leave behind the dresses Bert had made with his own hands? They weren't just clothes—they were pieces of his devotion, woven with meaning. Along with them, she needed her documents and a few personal items. That was why she had asked Laurent to step into the place she had sworn she would never return to.
