...
Wendy Quay just let him lift strands of her hair behind her ears as he caressed her face with his palm.
She bit her lips tightly, with hair sticking to her forehead. Both hands were clasped tightly, without uttering a word.
The two stood like that for a long time.
"Wendy," Yves King called softly, then gently used force to lift her chin. He looked at her with pained eyes; her face was full of weary exhaustion, colorless and pale, her lips were broken and bleeding, and her cheeks were so cold.
"I, we need to talk outside," compelled by his gaze, she couldn't hide and grabbed Yves King to go outside, to the small pavilion downstairs.
She didn't look at Yves King, but hung her head in silence. However, her slightly trembling body and the fresh blood now on her lips betrayed her struggling heart.
