Hall Mansion.
In a dark room, where the silvery rays of the moon could not penetrate, on a large king-size bed, lay a man in his thirties, fast asleep, but the muscles that had once been visible were fading away.
The air was heavy. It was as if even time itself refused to move forward within that place.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Alisha looked at her husband, who only woke up during one of his episodes. The doctors don't know what causes them.
She had heard too many theories. No answers.
Since her husband's collapse, her only son had taken care of everything, and above all, the butler's death had affected her deeply.
The house no longer felt like a home.
To think that the very man who introduced her to the love of her life is the one responsible for her husband being on the brink of death.
That idea was impossible for her to accept… but she couldn't deny it either.
...Quite ironic, isn't it?
