Jonathan put me into his car and kept silent. I also didn't want to talk. Seeing him light a cigarette, I noticed that his hand was bloody, there was a bit of glass in his flesh dyed with red wine. Imagining the feeling of applying alcohol on the wound, I couldn't help rubbing my palm, feeling the sharp pain.

I detested him as much as I loved him. I wanted to hand him a tissue from my pocket, but it was a pity that I was wearing Lisa's clothes. I said," Your hands, shall we clean the ...