Thinking of this, Julian Sterling suddenly felt a sharp pang of bitterness in the bridge of his nose. His chest heaved with suppressed emotion, and his eyes quickly grew burning hot as a thin veil of water began to cloud his vision, blurring the handsome face of the man standing before him. It seemed that the man holding him tightly also immediately noticed this unusual change. A rare flash of panic flickered in the depths of Ethan Caldwell's eyes, and his rough thumb, carrying a gentle warmth, slid across Julian's soft cheek, carefully wiping away a hot tear that had unconsciously rolled down: "What is it, my baby? Why have you suddenly turned into a teary-eyed doll out of nowhere?"
Julian Sterling sniffled, his throat so tight and bitter that he could not find his voice. He could only shake his head slightly and obediently bury his wet face into the man's firm chest, which carried the faint, familiar scent of cedarwood.
