When she didn’t reply, Shipley lowered his gaze, eyes settling on the thin fabric of her dress.
He instinctively reached out, brushing her shoulder. “Why are you wearing so little? It’s cold out, and it’s raining.”
Silvia leaned back, just enough that his hand missed her.
Unbothered, Shipley simply shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her knees.
She was wearing a white dress, and her legs did feel a bit chilly.
But the jacket... he had just given it to Vianne earlier.
The moment the jacket settled on her lap, Silvia almost reflexively stood up.
Shipley’s jacket slipped to the floor.
“Sweet Silvia, what’s wrong?”
Shipley’s gentle smile never wavered, but there was a flicker of confusion in his eyes.
“I’m fine,” Silvia said, shaking her head. “I’m not that cold.”
“But I remember you’re always the one who hates being cold. Every winter, when we went out, didn’t you always make me give you my coat?”
That’s right.
Back then, Shipley never offered his coat—she had to make a scene a few times before he’d finally give in.
After that, every winter, whenever she went out dressed lightly, he would drape his coat over her shoulders.
But all she could think about now was him putting his jacket around Vianne just moments ago.
The look in his eyes now was nothing like before.
“I’m really not cold. Thank you, though.”

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