It occurred to Galilea that Tyrone had been very quiet when she had just been rescued. He never broached the subject of their
separation again.
Back then, she discerned Tyrone’s melancholy, guilt, ennui and sleeplessness. Even so, he had abstained from smoking.
As the son of the Blakely family, Tyrone exemplified a diligent scholar. His relentless commitment to his studies bore copious
fruits during his university years.
Galilea, once brimming with self-assurance, found herself grappling with rejection when she pursued Tyrone, a man who defied
the stereotype of privileged youths.
He ardently pursued his own aspirations and clung tenaciously to his principles.
She had believed in his unwavering integrity.
Yet, to her astonishment, it was Sabrina who had effortlessly shattered his resolve.
Tyrone delicately extinguished the cigarette, its ember finding solace in the ashtray. As he raised his arm, the sinews on his
shoulder artfully accentuated his muscular physique. “To testify. You may state your terms.”
Upon receiving Tyrone’s call, Galilea swiftly surmised his intent. An irksome blend of anger and jealousy welled up within her.
She gazed at Tyrone and suddenly erupted into laughter. “Tyrone, I’m torn between lauding your persistence or deeming you
utterly foolish!”
Tyrone had accepted the reality of Sabrina’s having given birth to a child. Moreover, he still sought closeness despite Sabrina’s
chilly reception.
Only two days had elapsed since Sabrina assumed the role of her assistant, yet he had already come to her to negotiate for the
sake of Sabrina.
How had Sabrina managed to capture his affection?
Tyrone responded with composure, “Think as you please. Let’s dispense with the pleasantries. Name your terms.”
“What if I refuse and have no conditions?” Galilea arched an eyebrow. “You don’t have that choice.”
Tyrone’s words carried an undeviating flatness, yet there lingered an undeniable air of coercion.
Elton held no regard for Galilea, making it effortless for Tyrone to cast Galilea out from the realm of entertainment.
Galilea clasped the straps of her handbag tightly, directing her gaze toward Tyrone as her words underwent a transformation.
“Very well, I can testify. My condition is that you marry me. How do you find that proposition?”
“Absolutely not,” Tyrone retorted with unwavering determination. Observing his frigid countenance, Galilea offered a bitter smile.
“Your response is remarkably decisive.”
She had once posed the same question to him.
Back then, she lay on the bed, holding him in her embrace as she implored, “Tyrone, will you marry me?”
“Okay.” He had responded with unequivocal resolve, as unyielding as today.