But every time his messages arrived, another message from Lorraine would follow—each one a dagger to the heart.
She sent countless photos of Renald beside her, pouring her water. Massaging her shoulders. Using the same self-defense knife he'd never let me touch... to peel apples for her.
That night, my hand throbbed so badly I couldn't sleep. Against all reason, I found myself calling him.
The phone rang and rang, but he didn't answer.
I hung up.
A few seconds later, a message from Lorraine appeared.
[Hehe~ Guess what we're doing?]
Below her words was a video. Even from the thumbnail alone, the air reeked of intimacy.
My hands shook as I tapped it open.
Lorraine was sprawled on the bed, her clothes disheveled, her flushed face gleaming with sweat.
Then she sat up suddenly, wrapping her arms around Renald's waist from behind, pressing her fevered body against his strong back.
"Renald... don't go... I feel so hot... that wine... it's too strong..."
"If you leave... something bad will happen to me... please…"
Renald froze in his tracks. He turned to look at Lorraine, her eyes hazy and pleading under the dim light.
After a long moment of hesitation, he clenched his jaw, then hung up on my call.