Ilyan tossed in his bed for yet another time with the familiar uneasiness creeping in. Despite his stern warning, his heart had blatantly refused to beat in a steady rhythm.
Was she okay? Was she still crying? Did she eat? Was she able to sleep?
Irene. Irene. Irene. The only person to linger in his thoughts that night!
"Dammit!" He turned on his stomach, pushing his face in the pillow.
He caught his phone that he had deliberately kept right beside him for a change. Just to make sure that if she called, he would not miss it. Ensuring for the umpteenth time that it was not on the silent mode, he found himself involuntarily sliding into his call logs and messages,
His forlorn gaze stared at their last chat.
'Hello. Reached safely?'
