"Go home," he said to Finnley indifferently. “Leave me in peace.”

"Will you... go to work tomorrow?" Finnley asked tentatively, "Shall I adjust your schedules? You need a good rest."

Ivan didn't answer, feeling as if the next day was too far away from him. He didn't have the energy to think about it.

Finnley could understand how he felt. "Ok, I know what to do. Please take care, Mr. Marsh. I'll keep you updated.”

Ivan didn't reply, and Finnley left.

He closed the door. Ivan stood up and locked it from the inside. Then he pulled out two bottles of whisky from the wine cabinet, sitting in front of the window.

His eyes were full of anger. Recalling every moment he spent with Jennifer in the past few days, he felt his heart was torn apart by grief, which he had never felt so in his life before.

Probably, since he encountered Jennifer for the first time seven years ago, he had loved her to the core.

He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

Ivan opened the lid, lifted the

sensation from his throat all the way to his stomach. The

Can you answer my question now? Have you

don't know when it started. Probably from the moment that I wished you could be happy, that I could cure the wounds on your back as well as your stomach problem, that I

kind-hearted. All her wishes

window, Ivan heard the wind blowing outside. He gulped down the whisky in frustration, wondering where she was and what she was

he closed his eyes, his pain kept hitting his jumbled

be so difficult to find

waiting for Finnley's call. He had no intention

up the stomach medicine from Jennifer. Staring at the small bottle in his hand, he

couldn't believe that she had gone without telling him, which he couldn't

Her kindly reminders reechoed

anymore. What was the point even if his stomach trouble

all his

mats, and some rolled to the window. All were gone. About eight empty bottles were placed on

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