Early the next morning, after Serena got out of bed, she saw Daniel busy working in the kitchen. A faint daze washed over her—it had been a long time since he had personally cooked a meal for her.
When he saw her come out, Daniel carried out the sandwich that Serena loved, his face filled with apology. "Serena, I'm sorry for what happened yesterday. Don't be angry anymore."
Serena looked at the breakfast laid out before her, and she had no appetite at all.
She silently picked up the sandwich, took a mechanical bite, and it tasted like wax to her.
Ding-dong—
The doorbell rang, and Daniel went to answer it.
"Mr. Johnson..." It was Betty Davis.
She leaned on a crutch, her other hand laden with bags of all sizes, her expression a mixture of guilt and concern. "Mrs. Johnson, I... I came
