"He..." Qiao Mei's voice cracked. "He let me go, Xiao Yi. Again."
She burst into tears, collapsing into Mo Yi's arms.
Mo Yi held her friend, looking over Qiao Mei's shaking shoulder at Yichen. Her eyes were dark with worry.
The plan had failed. The idiot was still an idiot. And now, their peaceful retreat had turned into a shelter for the brokenhearted.
Mo Yi wrapped a thick cashmere blanket around Qiao Mei's shivering shoulders and pressing a mug of steaming hot cocoa into her hands.
Outside, the rain had finally stopped, leaving the night air crisp and cool, but inside, the atmosphere was heavy with Qiao Mei's hiccupping sobs.
Yichen stood by the window, his back turned to give them privacy, though his posture radiated with annoyance, not at the women, but at the situation. Specifically, at the idiocy of his best friend.
