Maeve Lane gave him a fierce look and snatched the glass of water from his hand.
After drinking, she finally felt some relief in her throat.
Julian Fairchild stood up and ruffled her hair from up high—
"Yesterday, I wasn't drunk."
I wasn't drunk.
Maeve, being so smart, almost immediately heard the implied meaning in the man's words.
If he wasn't drunk, it meant that he was sober when he said those words last night.
She let him ruffle her hair but lifted her eyes to look out the window, unable to discern her emotions, "Neither was I."
She also wasn't drunk.
So, her answer wouldn't change either.
For a long time, neither of them made any move.
"Breakfast is here." In the end, it was Julian who couldn't bear to break the suffocating silence, "Eat, and then have a good rest."
Maeve responded with a cool "Mm," not forgetting to add, "Thank you."
"I told you, you never have to thank me."
"Does that still count now?" Maeve smiled faintly, "How many years has it been?"
