The morning ray peeped through the thick curtains. The air was fresh, and the figure on the bed stirred much to his discomfort. The light of day did not bring him happiness but endless grunts, as he wished the night could stretch on longer.
After hours of tossing and turning, he could barely get any sleep. His eyes fully awakened, his smile faded, and he stared out the balcony where he had stood yesterday. The memories flooded back.
"How can it go away?" he whispered, but it wasn't as easy as he said.
He slowly stood and first headed to the bathroom, and by the time he was done with his bath, he walked out to a new set of freshly arranged clothes.
Sunny smiled and got into the grey sweatpants and baby pink shirt. It wasn't a color Damon would wear, but he dared not conclude.
There were no servants in his apartment. A maid came in time and again to clean, and an external cook handled his meals—which was not much for someone who skipped meals and ate so little.
