Mentioning Durrell Landon, Simon Storm's eyes involuntarily filled with layer upon layer of darkness, even his tone dropped a few notches.
"Cece, what's really going on between you and Mr. Landon?"
Quiana Sutton turned her head, eyes settling on the endless clouds outside the window, clearly distracted. "Uncle, I don't want to talk about anything right now."
This was the first time Simon Storm felt this way: she was inside a hazy mist, while he was outside of it; there was an invisible wall between them.
He didn't press her; instead, he walked to the side, lifted the piano lid, and played for a while.
The fleeting light of sunset faded, and the twilight sun quietly poured through the window onto her face. The sunset reddened her cheeks, and even seemed to tinge her eyes with red.
Seeing this, Simon Storm paused slightly, unconsciously hitting a few wrong notes.
On the other side.
