Cora Lowell suddenly clenched her fists.
She could no longer hesitate, could no longer be weak.
She had to find out what was really hidden behind all this.
With that in mind, she moved swiftly along the wall and slipped into the phone booth.
She bent down, trying to conceal herself in the dim corner.
She left only a small gap, staring intently through the dusty glass at the movement outside the door.
The wind moved the door slightly, making a subtle creaking sound.
She immediately reached out to hold the door tight, afraid of making a larger noise.
At first, she only noticed Tristan Lowell.
But as the two got closer, she realized he was holding a young girl tightly with his right arm.
The girl had a petite figure and wore an oversized coat that didn't fit her.
Her face was pale, her lips almost bloodless, and her hair hung in disarray over her shoulders.
She let herself be held quietly, without crying or making a fuss, just staring blankly ahead.
