Half an hour later, Ezra returned to the room and saw Shermaine lying on the bed. Her breathing was steady, like she had fallen into a deep sleep. He let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Before leaving, he made sure to tuck the blanket around her carefully and place a gentle kiss on her forehead. Then, without hesitation, he turned and left.
The sound of the door opening and closing echoed in the silence of the night, jarring in the stillness.
Once Ezra had gone, Shermaine slowly opened her eyes. The bright, clear gaze she was known for now seemed clouded with sorrow, and her face was ashen, devoid of life.
With delicate movements, she propped herself up in bed. Her gaze drifted toward the door, her eyes distant and numb. She felt like a hollow shell.
Before lying down, Shermaine had found a moment to sneak to the bathroom and make herself throw up. Even so, when she stood up, her limbs were still tingling, her strength drained.
The effects of the drug were clearly powerful.
