She heard his laboured breathing.
"This part was . . . Stephanie, if you don't want me after this, I'll accept that."
Stephanie let out a frown on her forehead. She clasped her hand with his, feeling the dampness of his sweaty palm wetting hers. That was how scared Mark was.
Stephanie drew a sharp breath before exhaling slowly. She raised her hand to start stroking on his hair, the short strands slipped between her fingers.
"Not my place to judge your past," she whispered as holding his face with her two palms. She let Mark close his eyelids to centre himself.
"Take your time, precious. We've got all night." Stephanie glanced at the dark sky outside their room. It was raining.
December rain brought with it that deep longing that pierced the bones, burning sorrow to the sleeping people that another year had passed, another twelve months had been spent in isolation, another full revolution of the sun without real progress.
