Jerome furrowed his brow, his gaze at Lizetta filled with obvious confusion and concern.


    Lizetta''s eyshes fluttered slightly. "Of course, I remember everything."


    Jerome''s lips parted, but he couldn''t find the words. A bitter taste seemed to spread through his mouth.


    After a moment, he sighed and said, "I understand. Even though you remember the hurt and the pain, you''re still willing to trust him again, willing to give him another chance, right?"


    Jerome''s eyes, locked onto Lizetta, grew darker.


    Lizetta pressed her lips together, her cheeks flushing slightly. She felt a bit foolish, even to herself.


    After all, she''d left Zion City so resolutely, with Jerome''s help.


    And now, to forgive Remington so easily—it felt a bit like betraying her own resolve.


    "Bro, I just want to give us another chance."


    Jerome''s grip on her hand tightened, emotions simmering in his eyes.


    This made Lizetta a little nervous.


    She instinctively pulled her hand back, causing the teacup to wobble, spilling some of the hot tea onto her hand.


    "Ouch," Lizetta gasped.


    Jerome seemed pulled back from his thoughts by her cry of pain. He frowned and quickly took the teacup, setting it on the table.


    Then he stood, pulling Lizetta to the nearby sink, running cool water over her reddened hand.


    "Does it hurt? I''m sorry, I got a bit lost in thought."


    The water felt refreshing against her skin.


    But really, only a small ssh hadnded on Lizetta''s hand. Jerome''s wrist had taken the brunt of it.


    Seeing the reddened skin on Jerome''s wrist, Lizetta felt a twist of emotion.


    "Bro, I''m fine, it doesn''t hurt. But your hand, you should rinse it well."


    Jerome saw she was okay and wouldn''t blister, so he turned off the tap. "I''m a grown man, it''s nothing."


    He said this while taking a hand towel to gently dry her hand.


    The tea room fell silent, making Lizetta feel awkwardly self-conscious. "I can do it myself."


    Jerome lightly held her hand through the towel, stopping her.


    He was rarely so assertive. Lizetta paused, looking up at him.


    Jerome met her gaze, his eyes serious, his voice a little hoarse. "Liz."


    Sensing what he was about to say, Lizetta quickly interrupted.


    "Bro, I''m really not hurt. You should drink your tea before it gets cold. It''s not as good once it cools."


    Lizetta''s interruption was hurried, her voice a bit forceful.


    But she hoped that by calling him "bro," Jerome would understand her meaning.


    As family, they saw each other often,


    and some things were better left unsaid to avoid future awkwardness.


    However, Jerome seemed determined to get a clear answer.


    He held her hand, unwavering, "Liz, even if the chances are slim, there are things I need to ask. If I don''t do it now, i might never get anothers chance."


    Lizetta, meeting his deep, persistent gaze, nodded quietly, waiting.


    Seeing her tension, Jerome released her hand, smiling.


    "I''m not a monster, right? I''m pretty decent-looking and have an okay personality. Why so scared?"


    Jerome''s self-deprecating humor


    was meant to ease her tension, not to pressure her. Lizetta


    trying to make her co was