That night when Irene returned home, Ilyan lingered on her mind. Their last conversation had made her sure that he had concealed way more than he had let her see.
All of the times she had met him, he had always had a pleasant aura surrounding him. His smile followed him like his shadow so it did surprise her that he seemed to have some deep-rooted sufferings.
As she lay in her bed, and sleep played its favorite game, hide and seek with her as usual, she could not resist wandering in the lanes of Ilyan.
*
Ilyan shoved his cold hands in the pockets of his black hoodie as he strolled around in his garden, embracing the fragrance of the flowers planted.
It was still quite early in the morning. An unexpected nightmare had broken his slumber, unsettling him to the extent where he could not go back to sleep.
Deciding to take a walk in the garden, he did not seem to bother about the freezing cold outside.
