The room was pitch dark, with the lights turned off.
She was in the center of the darkness, letting the tears fall, allowing memories to invade.
Time passed without her knowing how long it had been.
The woman on the sofa abruptly stopped crying and bit her lower lip.
She suddenly lifted her head, sniffed, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, stepped barefoot off the sofa, and switched on the light with a click.
Instantly, the room became bright; her eyes were red, and her hair was disheveled.
Song Yi raised her hand and randomly tied up her hair, messy yet beautiful.
Impossible, this is impossible.
She walked into the bathroom all the way, washed her face to clear her mind, cold water constantly flushing her face, cold at night down to the bone.
Her breathing was rapid, hands braced on the sink, water droplets slipping down her cheeks, staring at her disheveled and pitiful reflection in the mirror.
