Bathed in Anson's gaze, shame, annoyance, depression, anxiety, anger, and helplessness intertwined, hitting Annie like a punch to the nose.
She felt a little sour.
"Sorry." Annie lowered her gaze in a panic. It was all the fault of tonight's darkness; people are always more vulnerable at midnight, accidentally revealing their soft spots.
"I, uh, I'm sorry, tonight was entirely my fault."
"Recently, everything has been piling up—school, work, and... things at home. My brother... My life has been completely out of whack. I don't even know what's going on with my body."
She trailed off, vague and hesitant.
But Anson understood—
He wasn't a real twenty-year-old. The old soul inside his young body had experienced enough to understand the consequences of a body out of balance.
He could sense Annie's self-blame, and he didn't let her continue.
"This could happen to anyone."
Annie kept her eyes down, avoiding his gaze. Right now, she really didn't want to face Anson; she wished she could disappear into a hole. But she was too exhausted.
"I'm serious. This could happen to anyone."
Annie finally looked up. Words danced on her tongue, but she didn't know what to say. She only managed to whisper, "I want to take a shower."
Anson nodded gently. "You go shower. I'll head back now. Luca is still outside. I think he wants to get out of that T-shirt even more than you do."
Pfft.
Annie's lips twitched into a small smile but quickly settled down due to her weakness.
Anson stood protectively by Annie as she got up. Although he didn't directly support her, he had his arms ready around her, guiding her to the bathroom.
Annie's steps were heavy and slow, each one seemingly draining all her energy. Her frail shoulders seemed on the verge of collapsing under the weight of the night. But she gritted her teeth, stubbornly relying on her strength to move forward, step by slow step, never stopping.
Finally, they reached the bathroom.
Annie stopped and turned, finding herself facing Anson's chest.
"Hey, this is as far as you go," Annie joked with a small smile.
Anson stepped back to give her space. "Annie."
Annie looked up.
Anson asked, "Are you okay?"
For a moment, Annie was stunned, and then a smile bloomed on her face, like a night-blooming flower in the darkness.
"Yes."
Annie wanted to say more but couldn't find the words.
"Thank you, Anson."
She took a deep breath and repeated herself.
"Thank you."
All her thoughts condensed into that one sentence. She couldn't think of anything better to say.
So she smiled at Anson. "Could you close the door on your way out, or..."
"Thank you," Anson interrupted. "You've already said it more than once or twice. If you say 'thank you' too many times, it becomes 'sorry,' but you don't need to apologize."
Then, Anson turned to leave.
Annie was momentarily stunned, quickly ducking into the bathroom, swiftly opening and shutting the door to block out everything, hiding her embarrassment.
Anson had reached the door when he hesitated. He heard sounds from the bathroom—
The shower running. And muffled sobbing.
Despite covering her mouth and the interference of the water, the restrained crying was still audible.
Instinctively, Anson turned back to the room but stopped.
Since Annie didn't want to be discovered, maybe he should pretend he hadn't noticed and leave her some personal space.
Sometimes, instead of companionship, what you need is time and space alone.
After standing there for a moment, Anson finally decided not to stay. He turned, closed the door behind him, and walked toward the elevator.
Back in the car, Anson immediately noticed that Lucas had taken off his T-shirt, and there was no trace of it in the car. This piqued Anson's curiosity.
"Where's the T-shirt?"
Lucas's forehead vein twitched. "Where's Annie? Is she okay?"
Anson replied, "Luca, that was a keepsake. You didn't just throw it away, did you?"
Lucas persisted, "Are you sure Annie is alright?"
The brothers were talking at cross purposes, neither paying attention to the other.
Finally, under Anson's gaze, Lucas gave in and opened the glove compartment. There it was—the T-shirt, neatly folded.
Anson chuckled. "Oh, you even folded it. A perfect little square."
Lucas: ...
Turning his head, Anson saw Lucas flipping him the bird.
"Ha ha." Anson laughed heartily, finally returning to the topic. "Annie's fine. She just needs a hot shower and a good night's sleep."
Lucas nodded almost imperceptibly, saying no more. He started the engine, left the parking lot, and headed home.
The night grew deeper.
San Francisco wasn't Los Angeles or New York, and it certainly wasn't the city that never sleeps like Las Vegas. Even the bars had a 3 a.m. curfew. After the brief chaos, the city settled into a peaceful quiet.
Annie thought she might not sleep well, maybe even have a sleepless night, but surprisingly—
She didn't.
Exhaustion, both mental and physical, took over. Her head hit the pillow, and she fell into a deep sleep. When she woke up, it was already morning.
She had been woken by room service.
"… I didn't call for room service."
Annie looked at the hotel staff, puzzled.
The room service attendant pushed the cart into the room, explaining, "Last night, a Mr. Michael Moskovitz ordered room service for you and settled the bill in advance."
Annie: "Who?"
The attendant handed her a card from the flowers.
Annie opened it.
"Dear Mia,
Hope you had sweet dreams.
Michael."
He even signed it seriously.
Annie finally realized it was the name of Michael from "The Princess Diaries." Such an awkward and strange name; she hadn't even known Michael had a last name. Wait, Lily and Michael were siblings, so what was Lily's last name again?
Her thoughts swirled in her head.
Annie looked at the cart in front of her—
Grilled salmon, salad, onion soup, and a cup of hot milk.
As Annie pondered, the room service attendant explained again, "The hot milk was a special request. Mr. Moskovitz said that everything else was optional, but you must drink the hot milk."
Annie picked up the milk. It was warm, the heat seeping through the cup into her hand, soothing her muscles after a long night's sleep.
She took a sip.
Her whole body felt at ease, a smile creeping onto her face.
Annie tipped the attendant and, holding her milk, escorted them out. Closing the door, she tiptoed back to the cart, picked up the card, and read it again and again.
Such a simple sentence, yet it seemed to have magic, lifting her tired and heavy mood. Even the gloomy sky outside the window seemed to brighten.
Involuntarily, she turned the card over and over, glancing between the cart's food and flowers while finishing her milk.
Suddenly, she remembered something. Annie put down the card and the milk, heading to the bathroom.
She looked around, trying to recall where she had put it. Finally, she found the crumpled, graffiti-covered T-shirt near the trash can in the corner.
Sure enough, it was of poor quality. It had only been a night, and it was already starting to pill. She wondered if it would turn into a pile of fabric strips if thrown into the washing machine.
In the mirror, Annie held the T-shirt in front of her, spinning around to check it out. It didn't seem as bad as she remembered.