She really couldn't understand the Sylvan Cheney after his memory loss, changing faces like the weather, resembling a teenager full of anxiety.
It wasn't surprising though, he had never pursued anyone; he had always been the one pursued.
Half-asleep, her phone vibrated once.
Jasmine Yale, too sleepy to move, turned over and continued to sleep.
Unexpectedly, the phone kept ringing incessantly by the pillow as if it were urgent.
She had no choice but to stretch out her hand from the covers, barely open her eyes, and stealthily unlock the phone for fear of waking Chale Cheney.
It was a slew of messages from Sylvan Cheney; Jasmine Yale skimmed through them from start to finish.
"Jasmine Yale, you're really heartless and promiscuous."
"Jasmine Yale, do you feel a sense of accomplishment now? I waited for you for two hours, yet you really didn't come out."
"Jasmine Yale, won't you even reply to my messages?"
