So he had once smiled genuinely. How did he not know? How did he not feel it? Where had he misplaced his smile?
He was the only person in the entire building apart from the night guard. He pulled the blanket over his body. He seemed to sleep better here compared to at the villa.
There was no noise, no feeling of being stifled, and no responsibility of child-bearing.
He clenched his hand in front of his chest tightly, his lips pressed firmly together.
He shook his head from time to time, cold sweat running down his forehead constantly.
He was standing at the door and looked as another man walked into a room. The room door closed, and he leaned against the wall, smoking a cigarette from time to time, one after another. The ground was filled with the cigarette butt he had tossed. The woman inside was his wife, and the man was a good friend of his. He sold his wife for a not-so-important contract and for a cheap price at that.
