She silently slid off the bed and crept to the door, opening it a sliver. Through the gap, she saw Kris Cooper in the living room, sitting on a chair with a wobbly leg. His feet were propped up on an overturned coffee table, and he was drinking red wine straight from the bottle, his handsome face etched with a gloomy expression.
The decorative painting on the door was already loose. As she opened it, the small, bent hook supporting the painting finally gave way and slipped out.
The small oil painting crashed to the ground with a BANG, startling Vera Wave.
When she looked up again, her eyes met Kris Cooper's direct gaze.
"Um... you... you enjoy your drink. I just... ACHOO..."
This damned girl! Is she determined to drive me insane? I told her to sleep. Why is she messing around downstairs? Is she trying to catch a cold? I don't know what I owed her in a past life to deserve such torment in this one.
