As soon as she came out, the bar owner hurriedly pulled her back in.
"Miss Yale, let me take you to the hotel, you can't drink anymore."
"Where's Ann? Where's Ann? Where did my friend go?" Jasmine Yale rubbed her eyes.
"She's fine, she went home."
Jasmine Yale stood at the doorway, reached out her hand, and rainwater fell on her palm, cold and cool.
A light mist rose in her blurry eyes, just like the hazy rain outside, indiscernible in the haze.
The sound of rain fell on her ears, sounding hollow yet tranquil.
Jasmine paid no attention to the owner and shifted to the side, sitting down on the steps.
The steps were cold, and she sat there, stubbornly refusing to leave.
The owner, having been entrusted by Zaiden Santos, of course, wouldn't ignore Jasmine.
He grabbed Jasmine's arm: "Little Rascal, the ground is cold, get up, let me take you back to the hotel to rest."
"No," Jasmine shook her head.
She wanted to sit on the steps, she wanted to watch the rain.
