"Is that so?"

Barclay grabbed a damp tissue, leisurely wiping his hands.

Moira felt her hand tremble beneath her as she heard his words.

"Yeah," she said with a chuckle. "Mr. Covington, you go on to work. Sometimes I just don't have much of an appetite."

Barclay looked at her for a moment. "Okay."

He didn't press further, rising from the table and leaving.

He took a couple of steps before halting, then turned back to glance at Moira, who seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. "Thanks for yesterday afternoon," he said.

"It's a trifle. Never mind."

She was the one who needed more help than he did.

Barclay shifted his gaze away and turned to head upstairs.

Soon enough, Moira saw him descending, his tie neatly done.

"Take care, Mr. Covington."

Barclay gave her a brief nod

later, Moira heard the sound of a car

pursed her lips and turned to head

Moira needed to make the most of her time, familiarizing herself with the pieces and getting them all memorized. With

do

wasn't cooperating. Her eyes were on the

seventh mistake,

no way around it. Barclay's words in

the piano lid and lay on top of it for a while, feeling a knot in

may be

a very gloomy

for a while, saw Moira's message and quickly typed back. [What's wrong, dear? This emoji doesn't quite match the blissful married life

to explain. [I've encountered

me about it, and

type out her dream from the previous night, but then hesitated and deleted it. After a moment of consideration, she

Juliet immediately sensed that something was off. [You've developed

in an

accuracy in guessing

actually quite normal. I mean, even I couldn't help but like him involuntarily! If you like him,

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