It was already midnight by the time Broderick wrapped up his work.
The second he opened the bedroom door, though, something felt off.
There was a faint, sweet fragrance in the air.
Sure enough, moonlight spilled into the room like silver water, landing right on the small, delicate-looking girl curled up on the bed.
The scene looked oddly familiar.
Broderick raised a hand to his forehead, a bit speechless.
He walked over. Leslie seemed to be fast asleep, breathing steady-and of course, she was wearing one of his white shirts again. Her long legs were half-tucked under her, curled slightly, and she was clutching his comforter like it was her lifeline.
"Leslie?"
He called out softly.
No response.
He was just about to turn around and leave when suddenly he heard
