Lanceil was tossing around his bed, hoping to see which was the most comfortable position. The position wasn’t the real problem, though.

 

“Damn,” he grunted. He gave up everything and just looked at the ceiling. “Is he really her fiancé?”

 

That’s it. He couldn’t sleep because of Agatha.

 

When a rich famous man like Lawrence came and introduced himself as Agatha’s fiancé, Lanceil felt a cord snapped inside his head. The surroundings muted down, he could only hear the loud beating of his aching heart.

 

He didn’t know what exactly made him pathetic, in pain, sorrowful.

 

“I know I have the right to meddle in Agatha’s relationship with the man...