You held onto her like she was water slipping through your fingers. This feeling was all too familiar. It was like when you held your mother’s hand as she died. Helpless,sad and guilt.

The only difference now was that the one you were holding was no longer the Ningguang you once knew. She stood there,still as a stone,no tears as you broke down.

Why was she suddenly so cold and distant to you? Why were there lipstick marks on her neck?

“Get off. I have work.”