Yvonne Finley glanced at the time. It was already half past one in the early morning.
She looked through the peephole. The delivery man was standing right outside her door. After draping a bathrobe over herself, she opened the door.
"Here's your delivery," the delivery man offered her the package.
Yvonne accepted it, voicing her gratitude, "Thank you..."
All of a sudden.
Her voice trailed off, as though rasped by sandpaper, carrying a slow and faint surprise.
She glanced aside.
There was another figure standing behind her door.
He was casually leaning against the wall with his one leg crossed before the other, smoking a cigarette. The dimly lit corridor accentuated the sharp lines of his throat. The air around him was tacitly cold, yet irresistibly magnetic, making her heart flutter uncontrollably.
Yvonne was taken aback.
The atmosphere instantly froze.
The delivery man also appeared rather uncomfortable, his eyes flitting around restlessly.
