"I have called for breakfast." Raul started when he saw Olivera come out from the restroom looking pale, looking sick.
She hadn't replied to his question earlier, nor had she bothered to explain who Vee was, and what the male meant to her. Rather she had watched him in silence for more than ten minutes, not offering any words at all. Until she had coughed, and ran into the bathroom. To vomit. He was sure.
She was sick. She had spent more than ten minutes inside the bathroom. Perceiving the jasmine scent peculiar to soaps and body wash, he knew why. She had taken a bath.
"Are you okay?"
He wanted to pull her to himself, to hug her and whisper sweet nothings of care into her ears, but he knew that she wouldn't have that. She would rather die in her vomit. The past two weeks had told him that. She loathed him. She hadn't been kidding when she had said she didn't want him around her.
"And since when did you care?"
