The car stopped by the roadside.
Streetlights densely dotted the area, with few vehicles and pedestrians passing by. The sound of rain pattered against the car windows, creating a mixed cacophony.
His gaze fell on the entrance of the residential area, hesitated slightly, and then Camilo Nogueira withdrew his gaze, glancing at the phone screen.
The call went out, but no one answered.
He worked overtime until nine o'clock, compelled by an inexplicable concern for the child, detoured along the way, and by the time he came back to his senses, he had already parked the car here.
He simply didn't leave; after several moments of hesitation, Camilo dialed Andrew Hughes.
It rang for about twenty seconds, and still, no one answered.
Driven by distraction.
The child wasn't his son, and the mother was at home; why was he concerned?
As he extended his finger to hang up, unexpectedly, at that instant, the call suddenly went through.
"Camilo."
Andrew's childish voice came through.
