Midnight starlight streamed in from the window, dappling the figure curled up on the bed.
Yara Quillan's brow was slightly furrowed. She seemed to be in great pain, her small face contorted as if she were trapped in a nightmare. "AHH!" With a sharp cry, she shot up in bed.
"Baby, baby..." Henry Lester dropped his cigarette and rushed to Yara Quillan's side, pulling her into his arms.
The overpowering smell of smoke made Yara Quillan cough.
Henry Lester had never smoked before, but at some point, he had picked up the habit.
Henry Lester knew she was choking on the smoke clinging to him. He quickly took off his jacket, opening the window and the door.
As the smell of smoke in the room gradually dissipated, Yara Quillan sat on the bed, watching the silhouette move in the darkness. A wave of sorrow washed over her.
'Her mother, her brother, the truth she had been chasing for so many years...'
