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CHAPTER EIGHT

Trisha's red gown which stopped just a little above her knee hugged her frame as she spotted Harold and Wilkes and walked to where they were.

She was a few inches taller than the last time either of them had seen her — which was at Francis and professor Ericson's burial, and was a lot more… fashionable.

Harold was the first to spot her of the two. He was the one facing the door while Wilkes had his back to the door. Harold smiled.

“If these aren't my two babies,” she said with a laugh as she stopped a few centimetres behind Wilkes.

Wilkes spun around to look at her, not minding the salad stain that edged his lips.

“You look…”

“…Different?” Trisha asked with a smile on her face.

“I was going to say beautiful but different does the job as well. Had I not known you very well, I'd have said this isn't you.” His eyes traced her curves which were more enhanced by wha

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