Cynthia hid in her bedroom, browsing the internet, hoping her cold demeanor would drive him away. Yet, deep down, her emotions were in turmoil. The words she had just blurted out echoed in her mind, and she had to admit that this man was increasingly getting under her skin.
Suddenly, a loud "thud" came from outside, as if something heavy had fallen to the floor. Startled, she hurried out of her room. What she saw made her freeze—he was bent over, clutching his stomach with one hand, his expression twisted in pain. He was rummaging through the fridge, and the sound had come from a bottle he had accidentally knocked over.
Seeing him so pitiful and disheveled, a sharp pang of discomfort surged through her chest. After a brief hesitation, she finally forced out a few words, awkwardly and with difficulty.
"You… You didn't actually skip dinner, did you?"
