The man lying on the bed seemed to be asleep. His head was tilted slightly to one side, his eyelashes casting a shadow on his eyelids.
Sophie Sullivan came forward, gently fiddling with his long, dense eyelashes with her finger.
They felt soft yet somewhat firm—a strange sensation.
Sophie Sullivan withdrew her hand, picked up the wet towel, and bent over to wipe his face. It was unclear if he was unconscious from drunkenness, but the face-wiping went smoothly.
After rinsing the towel in the bath chamber, Sophie Sullivan came out again to wipe his hands and feet. When it was all done, she finally breathed a sigh of relief.
The smell of alcohol on him seemed to have dissipated somewhat, and only then did Sophie Sullivan lie down beside him.
With her back to Thomas Shannon, her head resting on her arm, she was lost in thought.
Thomas Shannon had saved her. It was truly beyond her expectations.
