With that, Cecilia excused herself and departed.

Observing her retreating figure, Mark felt his fingers clench tightly.

Flora playfully remarked, "She must be furious. You ought to soothe her if she's upset. Don't drag me into your mess, really. I'm concerned about you both... If you and she end up together, remember to give me a grand gift. It's not every day I'm so magnanimous.”

Mark brushed off Flora's remarks and quietly left...

Cecilia proceeded to a secluded terrace, where she gazed quietly at the river in the distance, her eyes brimming with tears.

Why had she come here?

All she yearned for now was to return home.

Footsteps approached from behind and then someone locked the door.

Without a doubt, she knew who it was. Turning her head, she caught sight of Mark standing there...

Her frail form seemed pitiable, tears continuing to moisten her eyes.

Whispering her name, Mark implored, "Cecilia."

Her back pressed against the railing, Cecilia looked at him dazedly and uttered, "Don't come any closer. Mark... Stay back."

Mark strolled over gracefully, like a figure straight out of a dream.

Under the mesmerizing glow of the city's neon lights, the surroundings took on an otherworldly quality.

The entire scene seemed like a beautiful reverie.

As though time had rewound, erasing any trace of the hurtful words Mark had spoken before.

He was still Cecilia's beloved Uncle Mark, the one who used to embrace her tenderly, call her sweet names and bid her goodbye in the morning.

Cecilia's heart fluttered as she witnessed Mark's approach.

In her heart, she secretly wished this moment could last forever, but her pride held her back from fully surrendering to the dream.

"Cecilia," Mark said, extending his hand towards her, eager to caress her face.

Swiftly, she evaded his touch and delivered a resounding slap across his cheek.

Though not forceful, the sound echoed like thunder, drawing a definitive line between them.