Thirst roused Arianne from her sleep. She went downstairs to grab some water and chanced upon Mark walking through the main door.
“What kept you till this late at night, hmm?” she asked from her spot by the stairs with the cup in her hand. “Look at the time, Mark. Even club-goers would have been home by now, I’m sure.”
Abject exhaustion shadowed his mien. “As it turned out, the wound on her leg hadn’t fully recovered yet when she decided to run away and kicked up a world of troubles,” he explained. “A minor surgery had to be performed today in the hospital to prevent sequelae. But, of course, that’s neither here nor there. Are you up because you haven’t slept yet, or did you just wake up?”
By “she” and “her, Mark obviously meant Shelly. It made Arianne wonder why he could not just refer to her as “Aunt Shelly” like he used to, though it was an inquiry she decided not to voice. The last thing she wanted was for Mark to think she was spoiling for a fight.
“Of course, I woke up from sleep. What, you think I put on my beauty sleep just to wait for your return? Not happening,” she quipped. “Anyway, have you hired anyone to look after Aunt Shelly? I’d imagine that after the surgery, she’s gonna be very much inconvenienced in her daily life.”
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