It seemed that by pouring out his heart to someone else after so many years, a trace of relief finally appeared on Oliver Battleson's face at the end.
But perhaps because he was speaking to a younger generation, the tail end of Oliver Battleson's words trembled, unavoidably leading him to bow his head.
Charlotte Thompson's nails dug into the palm of her hand, yet the pain on her skin could not make up for the desolation within her heart at this moment.
Back in the cemetery, what Oliver Battleson struggled to say was not an apology.
It was that the recipient of this apology was his son.
Charlotte's gaze flickered slightly, and the atmosphere between her and Oliver Battleson returned to the previous awkwardness.
Relaxing music still played in the café, yet neither of the two could feel the slightest bit of leisure in their hearts.
Charlotte's lips trembled slowly, and it was she who broke the quiet atmosphere at last.
