Listening to the woman's question, Justin Battleson let out a bitter smile, his gaze falling. The cold wind mercilessly brushed past his cheek. Charlotte Thompson heard him speak softly.
"Don't you understand?" His gaze fixed on her, seeming as if he wanted to burn a hole right through her. His voice was hoarse, resonating with an unnameable desolation and loneliness.
"Charlotte, the children are my own flesh and blood. Without you all, my life can never be complete."
"Even if I were to leave this place now, I would still feel as if my entanglements remain here."
After hearing his confession, Charlotte's body stiffened slightly, her pupils dilating.
Justin's knuckles brushed over his lips. His bloodshot eyes seemed both profound and tired.
Charlotte's ears buzzed. She opened her mouth, uncertain of how to respond. Her mind was blank, constantly reminding her of one thing.
The children were not just hers alone.
They had a father, and that father stood before Charlotte now.
