IT WAS past nine in the morning when Angeline woke up. The room is quiet, except for the noise coming from the aircon. And at times, she would hear the sound of typing.
She remained lying sideways on the couch while silently staring at her husband, who was engrossed in holding its document—what peaceful surroundings but not what she started to think about.
She closed her eyes again when she remembered what had happened earlier. It all started on a happy morning with her husband, no petty quarrel, just mere talking, but everything changed in a blink of an eye.
And she thought, what if she didn't turn to look back at her husband? She was sure it would not save him from the car because he thought profoundly while walking towards their building.
As he looked back at her, the look in his eyes pasted in her eyes.
She could feel the corner of her eyes stung from the tears that seemed to be streaming.
