Their way of interaction, their language in communication, everything seemed destined by fate to align perfectly.
This disjointed yet dreamy experience made Clara Bennett feel both shy and excited.
The next morning, sunlight streamed through the sheer curtains outside the window, bathing the bedroom in a soft golden glow.
Clara Bennett slowly opened her eyes, sat up from the bed, and hugged her knees, dazing there for a while.
Her mind still retained scenes from the dream, and an unconscious smile appeared on her face.
"William Foster, that clingy little demon; it's all his fault for always lingering around."
She muttered softly, her voice gentle like the spring breeze brushing past the ears.
Indeed, it was because William Foster appeared around her every day, inseparably, that she thought of him day and night, even dreaming of him.
His presence had long been deeply embedded in her subconscious.
