Edward Stephens looked at her face, thought of what she had done, and felt a mix of disgust and irony.
For the first time in his life, someone trampled on his dignity, on his self-esteem, brazenly, and outrageously.
His submission, to him, was a humiliation.
"I don't care who you slept with," he chuckled softly, looking at Daisy Ginger's face, leaning in close, his voice gentle as if whispering sweet nothings, "—Daisy, you'd better run away with some man."
Their eyes met, and finally, there was a trace of an expression she couldn't hide in her eyes, the pitch-black pupils looking at his face, stubbornly saying, "I won't."
"I said I don't care." Edward stated coldly, withdrawing his hand, turning and walking away.
His tall, slender figure, with his back to Daisy Ginger, the air that separated them, like a natural wall, divided their past from the present.
