Sick (2)
"Open the damn door, Kathrina!"
"Arthur," Kathrina called weakly. She had not expected him to come to her, not after her deliberately avoiding all his call and texts. She thought Arthur might think she was too busy to care about him. And that was what she had expected to happen.
Unlike her wishful thinking, Arthur stood rigidly in front of her front door. Arthur's state was a bit messy; his hair was tousled, unlike the usual slicked back, the top button of his shirt was opened, exposing his hard chest, and his suit was hanging on his left arm.
"What are you doing here?" She asked, her tone harsher than she intended it to be.
Arthur clenched his jaw, and his brows furrowed; it was crystal clear to Kathrina that her question successfully ticked the boom.