John

Elara stared into the mirror, grinding her teeth with a conflicted expression.

What the heck? What was wrong with her?

"Feels like I'm leading him on," She muttered lowly before sighing.

After using the toilet, she stared at the marks on her and sighed once more.

[Splash!]

The chilling water hit her face, eliciting a shiver, which she ignored before reaching out to the lemon-scented liquid soap, scrubbing her face roughly till it foamed before washing it all off.

Water droplets dripped from her face and onto her shirt, which she indifferently swatted. Grabbing a grey-colored face towel, she wiped her face and her neck before hanging it out and leaving the bathroom with a slightly drenched look.

She arrived in the living room to see Terrence sleeping obediently with a lamb plushie in hand. He was curled up adorably on the couch and seemed quite uncomfortable, probably from the slight chill.