Staring at him in profile, Zoe said softly, “Let it go, Noah! Dad wouldn’t want us to live a life full of hatred. I believe he’d want us to be happy.”

A breeze blew past them gently.

His carefully combed hair was tousled a little, seemingly dialing the clock back on him. He looked like a twenty-odd-year-old man, reminiscent of the elegance and gentlemanly grace he had back then.

Wearing a white shirt underneath the glow of the evening sun, he looked absolutely stunning.

Keeping his hand on