He rose from the stool and went to her room. She was sitting on the floor with two men towering over him. The thought that they could see her wet, her dress sticking to her body and she looked so vulnerable set the fire in his chest anew.
The men followed his presence and the darkness coming from him at once. They bowed their heads and left the room. He stood in front of her but she did not raise her head to look at him as if she could not feel his presence.
. "Collect yourself," he said quietly, and walked to the pitcher on the table. With movements precise, almost mechanical, he refilled her cup. His expression was serene, but only he knew the waves of tsunamis hitting his chest again and again making a frenzy tune that ran in his ears.
