Tristan Grayson sighed, looking wearily at Kiki. "Go to sleep."

Kiki handed the baby bottle to Tristan Grayson and sullenly snuggled into the covers.

Once Kiki was asleep, Tristan Grayson left the room. He closed the door, leaned against the wall, and stared blankly at Mika Summers’ door. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it.

He smoked about three or four cigarettes before stopping.

He raised his hand and knocked twice on her door. When there was no response, his brow furrowed. He turned the doorknob, opened the door, and went inside.

Inside, he saw that the bed was empty, but he could hear the sound of dripping water from the bathroom.

Tristan Grayson picked up the ointment from the table and sat on the bed, his gaze complicated as he looked toward the bathroom.

He waited for a long time, but Mika Summers still hadn’t emerged. The sound of water continued unabated. He frowned deeply, a faint sense of unease stirring within him.

He stood and strode over to the bathroom, knocking twice on the door. "Mika Summers? Mika Summers?" he called out in a low voice.

—

Mika Summers had fallen asleep in the bathtub. Hearing the voice outside, she slowly opened her eyes. Her body ached so much she didn’t want to move an inch.

"Mika Summers?" Hearing no reply, Tristan Grayson knocked again, harder this time.

"What!" Mika Summers pushed herself up and out of the tub. She grabbed a bath towel and casually dried herself.

Hearing Mika Summers’ voice, Tristan Grayson could finally breathe a sigh of relief. "Are you alright?"

Mika Summers’ movements faltered. "Mm..." she answered softly. She wrapped the towel tightly around herself and leaned against the wall, watching the silhouette on the other side of the door. Her eyes were filled with a boundless, sorrowful depth...

’She didn’t understand. What was going on with Tristan Grayson now?’

’It was like the old Tristan Grayson was really gone...’

’Where was his arrogance? His pride?’

’She’d slapped him, yet here he was, worried about her...’

"Mika Summers, come out. Let me see your injuries." Tristan Grayson’s voice was low and hoarse.

"I already told you, I’m not hurt. Just go."

"How could you not be? Let me put the ointment on for you, and then I’ll go."

Tristan Grayson’s words made a sharp pain wrench at Mika Summers’ heart. Her voice was laced with anguish. "Tristan Grayson, what exactly are you trying to do?"

’Can’t you just keep your distance? Can’t you stay out of my life? Can’t you just let me have some peace? Can’t you stop tugging at this dead heart of mine...?’

Hearing Mika Summers’ words, Tristan Grayson’s lips curved into a bleak smile. He turned, leaned against the wall behind him, and slid to the floor. With a trembling hand, he pulled out his pack of cigarettes, took one out, and lit it.

When the cigarette burned down to its end, Tristan Grayson spoke, his voice slow and raspy. "Mika Summers, I know you hate me. I know you don’t want to see me. I know what a bastard I used to be, and I know better than anyone that it’s impossible for you to forgive me."

—

Listening to his words from beyond the door, Mika Summers’ expression grew even more pained as sharp pangs shot through her heart.

’What in the world is he trying to do? Atone for his sins? Or is he trying to remind me how desperately I used to throw myself at him?’

"But Mika Summers, you don’t know... In the two-plus years you were gone, I haven’t had a single day of peace. I haven’t felt alive for a single one of them. If it weren’t for Kiki, I honestly don’t know if I would’ve survived this long."

Tears streamed uncontrollably down Mika Summers’ face. She clenched her fists, struggling to stay upright. "That’s enough! Stop talking! Tristan Grayson, what’s the point of saying any of this now!"