Third Person's POV
He coughed, and the scarf around his neck bounced. Adelaide turned her head, not wanting to look directly at it. The knitting was really bad. The pattern wasn't a bird or a bee—it was all wrinkled.
"Does he even remember who gave him that scarf?"
No way. She had to find a chance to steal it back and get rid of it.
She slurped her pasta. The spicy and smooth flavor was satisfying, but she still kept her eyes on his scarf.
She asked casually, "Alpha Lance, the knitting on your scarf is pretty bad. Did someone you know make it? You didn't buy it, did you?"
Lance's cheeks turned red from coughing. He drank a few sips of water to calm the spice. "This? I've had this scarf for a long time. I think it was a wolf pup who was just learning to knit. It was the first hand-mad
