Almost as soon as she leaned closer, the man on the sofa suddenly opened his eyes. Thea Lynch's hand trembled with fright, "Third brother, go upstairs and rest."
There are many empty rooms at Grandma's house. When she and her uncle hadn't gone abroad, the house was a bit lively. Now, only the two elders and one aunt live here.
The man had his eyes half-closed, like he had been paused, staring at her unblinkingly. His gaze was fiery, making Thea Lynch's cheeks warm up and her mind uneasy.
Seeing him unmoved, Thea thought he didn't hear her, so she bent down a little more and softly repeated, "Third brother, it's too late now, it takes more than an hour to return to Coronet. Grandma said you should stay tonight, let me help you to your room to rest."
Her voice was much gentler than usual, just like those days when she slowly regained her speech, not deliberate but tenderly sweet, soft against one's heart.
