As Isabelle exited the car, she spotted several toppled wine cups scattered on the ground.
Jack was sitting nearby, deep in conversation.
“In Cheshian tradition, we’re only supposed to mourn for three days. That’s all we need,” Jack remarked casually. His attention shifted as Isabelle approached.
“Are those tears?” Isabelle asked, noticing his reddened eyes.
Jack furrowed his brow. “How did you even find this place? Only my boss and I know about it...”
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