After dinner, everyone leaves for their respective room.
But when I enter my room, it was pitch dark.
Logan came early from the dinner. I thought he would be back here.
Then why is not any light on? Maybe he went outside.
Thinking this, I enter the room, but suddenly all the lights turn on, and I hide my face with my hand.
When I open my eyes, Logan was sitting on the couch.
His legs are kept on the coffee table in a crossing manner, and he is smoking. I didn’t know he had a habit of smoking.
But I never get to know what are his habits.
He crushes the cigarette in the ashtray and looks at me.
I try to see through his mood. But his face has no emotion from which I can get a single clue.
“Where were you?” he asks calmly still sitting in the same position.
“I was at the dining tabl
