Chapter 117: Drowning Her Sorrows In Rum
Evening.
Bedroom, Theodore Mansion.
Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.
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Lydia’s eyelids fluttered open, revealing eyes dulled by tears and exhaustion.
"Theodore" came her low whisper, it is tinged with agony. Helena had left just earlier.
"Gooseberry" Theodore whispered blinking rapidly.
He had been staring at her for a while now, till his vision had blurred and he didn’t see her eyes open.
The evening sun filtered through the lace curtains, it cast delicate patterns on Lydia’s pale face as she stirred from her troubled slumber.
He watched her with tender eyes, his hand gently clasping hers, offering what little comfort he could muster.
He held her face with care. "Hey, how... I shall get the physician" he attempted to leave, the bed dipped, but she grabbed his wrist.