Mocking her for not daring to knock on the door again.
Leh Ying took a soft cushion, sat by the pool, dangled her feet, and played with the water.
Time passed by second by second, the man completely ignored her arrival, smoking indifferently, his side profile more desolate and lonely than the lights of the outdoor swimming pool.
What should she say? She didn't know. She couldn't sleep in the bedroom, fearing that he would come to her bed drunk in the middle of the night. Recalling the ferocity of his drunken state made her waist ache; when he was angry, he sought comfort at her expense, and it was she who suffered.
She quietly reached out, took the cigarette box from the coffee table to play with—white box of cigarettes, spicy and mellow in taste.
It was probably just opened tonight, already one-third gone.
