"Let's go!" She tugged at his arm.
The evening breeze blew, carrying the scent of dried autumn grass and a hint of the lake's fresh aroma.
It was especially quiet all around.
Sylvan Cheney was like a child who got candy, very satisfied, stepped out of the car with a cheerful face, and obediently followed Jasmine Yale.
"Let me carry your bag." Sylvan, heavily drunk, kept his gaze fixed on Jasmine.
"Oh." Jasmine took the bag off her shoulder and tossed it into his arms.
"I'll carry you up."
"No, absolutely not." Jasmine quickly stopped him, "I can't take it."
She dared not let a drunken man carry her.
"Oh." Sylvan didn't insist, just looked a bit deflated.
Shortly after, Jasmine led Sylvan upstairs.
This time after their quarrel, he didn't change the lock like last time; the code was still the same as before.
Opening the door, Jasmine felt very tired.
Sylvan, however, seemed to be in an exceptionally good mood.
