She really almost died before Rufus gave her that kind of medicine.
Even knowing about its strong dependence, it was better than dying from insomnia.
She had always been trying hard to live, even if she had such an illness, she didn't want to die.
She stood there, with a somewhat uninhibited, nonchalant air.
Her face was pale, her expression tired, she walked over and sat down on the sofa, then took out a magazine and began reading.
Trenton raised his hand and rubbed his forehead vigorously.
A nameless restlessness welled up inside him, and he felt a sense of frustration as things began to slip out of his control.
At six-thirty, they went downstairs together for breakfast.
The servants found that the atmosphere in the villa was even more oppressive than the day before.
In the dining room, Norris had a few bites of porridge and then put down her spoon. When she got up to leave, Trenton didn't say anything.
The loss of appetite caused by insomnia was hard to avoid.
