Adina stood by the window, the cool breeze brushing against her skin. Hand rested over her chest. She had been standing there for minutes—maybe hours, waiting.
She wasn't waiting for him, though. Of course, she wasn't. Why would she? He chose to attend the party, the whorefest as it was called.
She was only bothered—worried about herself. Worried he would get with one of the women and the pain that would come with it.
At least that was what she told herself. Adina inhaled deeply as she rubbed her arms. The air was cold, almost freezing, which was weird.
Sleep evaded her, and she didn't even try to force it. She wondered, though, was she going to stay up all night, waiting for the pain to hit?
The door creaked, and the thoughts died down. She turned towards the door, brows furrowed. Whoever it was behind the door didn't step in.
Adina waited for a few seconds more, and when she got nothing, she walked to the door and pulled it open, wondering who it could be.
