Wesley Foley was opening the wine when Titus Zane had already gone back to his room to change clothes.
Slipping out of the dark office lady attire he wore for work and returning to the living room, he donned a simple light grey knitted sweater with loose-fitting wide-leg pants, casually throwing a beige shawl over his shoulders. His long hair, typically tied up during the day, was now loosened, the charming waves of brown cascading attractively over his shoulders.
Wesley glanced up slightly, holding a wine bottle in one hand and steadying a wine glass in the other as he leisurely poured the wine.
Warmth and amazement shone unmistakably from his eyes.
Perhaps due to his previous involvement in the arts, Titus Zane inherently exuded elegance — unpretentious and sincere, his refined temperament seemed as though it was ingrained from birth.
Titus took a seat next to Wesley Foley, as there was only one sofa in the apartment's living room.
