The onlookers watched Eleanor intently.
But she saw only Anson. Her eyes were already blurred with tears, and she couldn't make out anything else.
Anson walked slowly up to her and reached out to wipe the tears from her face.
"Why are you crying...?"
His voice was beautiful, like a gentle breeze or clear water.
It overlapped with the voice she remembered.
Eleanor's heart pounded.
"Is it really... you? Am I really... not dreaming?"
Even with the proof right in front of her, she couldn't believe it.
"It's me."
Anson's voice was as gentle and refined as ever, but his tone was firm.
"It really is me, Anson Whitaker."
The moment he finished speaking, Eleanor threw her arms around him and held him tight.
The scene stunned the onlookers.
It stunned Cassandra and Isabelle.
It stunne
