It took her a long, long time to clean up and get ready to face him.
But outside, it was empty; the man's figure was nowhere to be seen. The white curtains silently swayed, and the single sofa still bore traces of water, messy, unrestored to its original state.
It was as if a lingering scene was playing out in front of her eyes, frame by frame, flickering past.
Despite having mentally prepared herself, she still couldn't face him calmly.
But he was not there.
Her heart felt empty for a moment, a bit desolate.
That feeling was not pleasant.
She picked up her phone, and just as she opened the door, she encountered a waiter standing at the entrance.
"Miss, Mr. Lowell is next door, he asks you to wait for him for a while."
Claire Prescott slowly closed the door, hesitating whether to leave without saying goodbye, when she heard the sound of a lock turning from the room next door.
Soon after, she saw the man appear before her, having changed into clean, crisp clothes.
