A middle-aged woman was lying in bed with her red, wavy hair spread across the pillow; her pink eyes were staring blankly at the ceiling. Even though she looked worn down and there was dirt smeared on her face, she didn't look the least bit repulsive.
Maybe it was because of her gentle aura, or maybe it was because of the deep sadness in her eyes, but she exuded a touch of vulnerability.
As the sound of water trickling from the ceiling remained persistent, the cold wind seeping from the broken window's gap made the atmosphere a bit eerie.
To the woman, however, nothing mattered.
"Are you thinking about her again, Helena?" A deep masculine voice interrupted the beautiful middle-aged woman's thought process.
Helena looked at Victor, her husband, whose black hair was tousled, and his blue eyes stared at her with deep affection and concern, and she gave a forced smile.
"No. I was... just thinking about surviving...."
