Leona Grant woke from a nightmare.
In his dream, it was yet another betrayal, another sunset.
He had dread of Annabelle Linton again.
He dread they were married and in love. But during the wedding, just as they were exchanging rings, she suddenly vanished.
She vanished without a trace. He searched high and low, but she was nowhere to be found.
He panicked and scread, but she never reappeared.
He felt as if he had been abandoned.
But he didn’t give up. He just kept searching.
But he searched his whole life and never found her. In the end, he died, unreconciled.
The dream was incredibly vivid, so much so that it felt real.
Leona Grant sat up. It was dusk; the sun had already set.
He gazed blankly out the window at the vast, pale-yellow afterglow, a sharp pang of sorrow piercing his heart.
He hated this ti of day.
It was always when he thought of Annabelle Linton.
He used to co ho to find her waiting for him, dinner already made.
Her gentle, faint smile let him know that no matter how late he was, soone was thinking of him, waiting for him to co ho.
He had once felt it was all a disingenuous performance, but only now that it was gone did he realize just how precious it had been.
And now, he would never have that luxury again...
Leona Grant squeezed his eyes shut, then scrubbed his face hard with both hands.
He’d told himself to let bygones be bygones, to let each other live the rest of their lives in peace. He was supposed to let her go—and let himself go, too.
’Why am I thinking of her again...?’
And every ti he thought of her, it was of her kindness, her smile. So beautiful, yet forever out of reach...
Leona Grant put a hand to his head, his brow furrowed deeply.
A hangover was a terrible feeling. His head throbbed as if it were about to split open.
His heart, still affected by the nightmare, pounded uneasily.
In the month since his divorce from Annabelle Linton, he had not been doing well.
He hadn’t eaten in days, his energy was shot, and his face was pale.
As Leona Grant sat there, a sharp pain flared in his stomach, making him grimace in agony.
His stomach condition was acting up again. After days of not eating and only drinking, even a healthy person would end up with stomach problems.
And his case was a particularly severe one to begin with.
He suddenly rembered how Annabelle Linton would always buy him dicine whenever his stomach flared up.
Once, when the pain had been so bad he was vomiting and had lost consciousness, she took care of him for two days and two nights.
But he hadn’t thanked her. Instead, he had viciously berated her. He had been so stupid.
She was the one who had nursed him back to health, and his stomach hadn’t troubled him for a long ti. Now the old ailnt was back, but the one who cared for him was gone...
Lost in mories again. Leona Grant paused, then dragged his thoughts back to the present with a great effort of will.
He ignored the sharp pain in his body.
He got out of bed, took a cigarette from the drawer, and lit it. He took one drag and imdiately choked, breaking into a coughing fit.
Leona Grant felt utterly drained.
He slumped into a dejected heap in the corner by the door, his head resting weakly against the cabinet.
He forced himself not to look for her, not to see her, not to check up on her.
But ti hadn’t helped him forget her. Instead, it only made him miss her more.
At this ti of day, everyone was heading ho.
But he had no idea what to do, or where to go...
"Annabelle Linton... I’ve fallen this far. Why aren’t you here to set straight?" Leona Grant murmured in sorrow.
He sighed, took the ring Annabelle Linton had left behind out of the drawer, and stared at it for a long ti...
He only closed his eyes when they began to sting with unshed tears.
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