Vivian stood in the middle of the room, breathing like the air itself hurt her lungs.
Her fingers shook uncontrollably.
“Victor,” she whispered.
He didn’t look up.
He scrolled through his phone, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips.
Vivian stepped closer.
Her eyes were swollen, face pale, body frail.
“Victor,” she repeated, stronger this time.
“Just look at me.”
Victor finally lifted his eyes with a bored expression.
Vivian pointed at her face, voice breaking.
“Are you not sad for me?”
He blinked once, slowly.
Vivian ran her hand across her cheek.
“Just look at how wrinkled I’ve become.”
Her voice cracked on the last word.
“I’m twenty-two.”
A tear fell against her skin.
“And I look fifty-six.”
Victor shrugged.
“You exaggerate.”
Vivian grabbed her tangled hair and he
