She finished the bowl slowly, savoring every bite.
Then she cleaned the dish, wiped the counter, and turned off the light.
By the time she slid under her quilt, the sky outside was already softening to grey.
And for the first time in two nights, her breathing was even.
She fell asleep with her hand resting lightly over her chest again, like the warmth he'd left behind still hadn't faded.
Lu Yanchen shut the door to his room with more force than necessary, the quiet thud muffled slightly by the carpeted floors of the old estate.
He didn't bother turning on the lights.
The city's glow filtered in faintly through the half-open curtains, casting long shadows across the walls and catching on the edge of the glass frame by his bookshelf, a family photo he didn't care to glance at right now.
He'd barely said two words to his mother on the way in, ignoring her questions about the board meeting and sidestepping his father's reminder about tomorrow's luncheon.
