(PS: The background is fictional)
That day, the vivid scene of blood imprinted in her mind, she always thought he must be hurting.
The excitement of the plot grew bit by bit, but Maya knew her time to leave was approaching. This time, however, there was no relief-like joy in her heart, just a chaotic discomfort.
Ian Rowe extended his arm to wrap around her and said first, "It doesn't hurt at all."
Neither of them spoke in the remaining time; they simply leaned against each other.
*
The night breeze was gentle; Maya didn't call her assistant and driver; she just went to the square alone after fully preparing herself.
She had no direct purpose, merely wanting to go out to relieve the anxiety inside.
Her mood was indescribably complex; every time she saw the plot's excitement level, it felt like seeing a death warrant, and her initial joy had long dissipated.
"Hey, miss, a phone screen protector? Cheap!"
