Candice forced a smile—one uglier than crying.
Who wanted to participate in such a “competition” anyway?
“Can’t I enter something nice for once…” she murmured, looking up with a soft voice.
“Of course you can,” Charlie nodded earnestly. His smile was gentle, and his eyes sparkled like starlight. His voice was low and mellow, like a sip of sweet wine. “Whatever you want to participate in, you can.”
Candice had been holding herself together—she wasn’t used to crying in front of others, didn’t want to be laughed at for being weak. But in that moment, she felt she had permission—to be spoiled, to break down, to stop being strong all the time. The warmth that welled up inside her melted her final line of defense.
Her eyes blurred with tears until she couldn’t see anything clearly.
She let
