Bean-sized raindrops densely struck the glass. The rain grew heavier, a torrential downpour that filled the world with a curtain of water mist.
Thomas Shannon woke up. It wasn’t the ear-splitting thunder that roused him, but Sophie Sullivan, shivering in his arms.
She seed to be having a nightmare. Her smooth body, though covered by a thin quilt, still shivered violently.
Thomas Shannon held her tighter, gently rubbing her back. Sophie, trapped in the nightmare, was covered in cold sweat.
Her lips trembled, and she mumbled sothing, her voice as faint as a mosquito’s buzz.
"Maniac?" Thomas Shannon whispered.
She didn’t respond. Her teeth were chattering, the sound of them knocking together distinct.
"Maniac, wake up!"
Thomas Shannon knew he couldn’t let her remain trapped in the nightmare; her condition was alarming.
He switched on the lamp with one hand and gently patted her cheek. His handso brow furrowed. "Maniac, you’re having a nightmare. Wake up."
"Grandmother... don’t leave... Fennie..."
Grandmother?
Thomas Shannon’s expression turned solemn. Who was Fennie? Was it her na?
Sophie’s body twitched. Thomas Shannon sat up and pulled her into his embrace, gently patting her back. "Maniac, stop sleeping. Wake up."
"WHIMPER..." Sophie, in her nightmare, started to cry.
Crystal-clear, hot tears stread from the corners of her eyes.
They splashed onto the back of his hand, the small patch of skin feeling as if it had been burned.
"SOB... Fennie doesn’t want you to go..."
Was she mourning her grandmother? Fennie...
Thomas Shannon lowered his head. His thin lips kissed away the tears on her face. He then carefully used the sleeve of his sleep gown to wipe them dry, preventing them from seeping into the gauze and wetting her wound.
"Fennie, wake up."
He patted her cheek, then switched to a pinch, squeezing a little harder.
Sophie gasped, her tear-soaked eyelashes fluttering as her eyes slowly opened.
The dazzling light made her imdiately close her eyes. After a few seconds, she slowly opened them again.
"What... what’s wrong with ?" Sophie suddenly felt a pang of grief, as if she had lost sothing irreplaceable.
She raised her hand and touched her damp eyes. Had she cried?
Thomas Shannon gazed at her, his eyes a complex shade. Those deep, mysterious eyes were unfathomable, like a breakless ocean, deep and endless.
She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, so she shifted, trying to get out of his embrace.
Thomas Shannon held her soft, pliant body. "Don’t move," he said in a low voice.
"I’m going to wash my face." Sophie lowered her gaze, knowing in her heart he must have seen her unsightly, tear-streaked face.
Thomas Shannon gently pushed her back down on the bed, then got out himself. "Stay put. Don’t move."
He returned from the bath chamber with a damp towel and sat on the bed. He lifted her chin with one hand and ticulously wiped her face with the towel in his other.
Outside, lightning flashed and thunder rumbled; the storm raged.
Yet, this small corner of the bedroom was extraordinarily peaceful.
"Thomas Shannon..." Sophie bit her lip gently.
"Hm?" He didn’t even glance up.
"Did I... did you hear say anything in my sleep?"
Hearing this, Thomas Shannon paused in wiping her cheek. His eyes darkened. "Is there sothing you want to tell ?"
For example, her na.
Sophie scrutinized his expression. He probably didn’t hear what I said. Is he just trying to fish for information?
She didn’t trust him.
After everything that had happened, her trust in him was completely gone.
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