Camila, standing with her arms casually crossed, had a wicked smirk dancing across her lips, her teasing eyes gleaming as if she was witnessing the most entertaining thing in the world.
Meanwhile, Abigaille, standing gracefully beside her, looked as serene as ever, her gentle smile warm and encouraging, like she was silently telling them, 'Oh, don't mind us. Keep going.'
Nina felt like dying on the spot.
Her ears burned. Her face was on fire. Her entire body screamed in secondhand embarrassment.
For a long moment—she just stood there, frozen, her lips still parted, her brain refusing to process anything except the pure mortification flooding through her system.
Kafka, on the other hand—
Was smirking.
The bastard was smirking. Enjoying this. Completely unbothered.
As if getting caught shamelessly making out in public was just another ordinary Tuesday for him.
Nina, however—
Wasn't okay at all.
