Arianne stood in front of the French windows in her bedroom, looking out into the night. Her heart was in disarray. At some point, it started drizzling.
When she saw the bright car lights from a distance, she tugged her lapels with her long, slender fingers, turned around, and walked downstairs.
A few minutes later, Mark walked in, slightly wet. She grabbed a towel and approached him. “It’s chilly and raining. Don’t get sick, hurry and get in the shower.”
Mark didn’t take the towel. He didn’t even look at her. Instead, he walked straight upstairs.
She wasn’t embarrassed by this either. She sat down and hung the towel on the sofa.
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