Jasmine Yale was truly convinced by him; he didn’t care about his face at all.

She turned her back to him and dried her hands.

Sylvan Cheney stared at her beautiful back for a long time, feeling ashamed as his body reacted.

"I’m heading out, call me if you need anything. Hurry up and wash; the water will get cold," Jasmine advised, "Don’t fall asleep."

After speaking, Jasmine left the bathroom.

Walking to the window, she took a deep breath. Her chest felt tight, and there was a tingling sensation coursing through her body, like an electric current.

This floating sensation was like a tiny boat rocking amidst the tide, drifting unpredictably.

Her heart swelled with an unbearable restlessness.

She left the window open, letting the breeze in.

She didn’t feel cold; rather, there was still a sense of heat.

Her thoughts kept drifting, and images of intimate, sensuous scenes occasionally flashed in her mind. During that time, they poured all their passion into each other, entangled throughout the night, as if night and day were indistinguishable.

Jasmine’s face flushed red.

She lightly rested her hand on the windowsill, her thoughts fluttering back and forth.

Sometimes she would close her eyes to feel the cold night wind, carrying the scent of fallen leaves and the fragrance of earth.

After a long time, she sighed, closed the window, and drew the curtains.

She heard noise coming from the bathroom.

"Sylvan Cheney, are you done washing?" She walked to the bathroom door.

A muffled grunt came from inside.

Jasmine’s face turned red, and she instinctively walked away.

Teasing him was her fault, but she didn’t do it on purpose; who knew he was so weak.

After a while, the bathroom became quiet.

Jasmine sat on the bed for about ten minutes until Sylvan Cheney finally stumbled out, leaning against the wall.

"Finished washing... let’s sleep... wife..." he stumbled over.

Having washed, Sylvan no longer smelled of alcohol; now he smelled very pleasant.

He kept snuggling next to Jasmine, and taking advantage of her distraction, he immediately planted two kisses on her neck.

"Sylvan Cheney, get off!" Jasmine pushed him, "Go dry your hair!"

He smelled so good; Jasmine couldn’t stand it.

He’s a man with normal desires; isn’t she just a woman with normal desires?

How could she bear such teasing?

"You smell like alcohol; it’s unpleasant," Sylvan frowned with disdain.

"You’re blaming me? Who made me smell like alcohol?"

"Then go shower; I’ll run the hot water for you." Sylvan stood up earnestly and stumbled toward the bathroom, walking unsteadily.

Jasmine quickly followed him, pulling him back: "Alright, go dry your hair. After that, go to sleep; I’ll take a shower." 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

She couldn’t stand the smell on herself either.

In Sylvan’s wardrobe, she found a black robe—it was his.

The robe was large, but since she was pregnant, it fit well enough.

The apartment quieted down.

Suddenly, everything became very silent.

The lighting in the apartment was a warm orange tone, the decor understated, with smooth lines and a sense of minimal beauty. The carpet was ash-grey with simple patterns engraved on it, and walking across it made no sound.

Soon, the apartment was filled with the sound of a hairdryer and running water in the shower.

Jasmine tightly shut the bathroom door.

Sylvan didn’t take long to dry his hair, but after waiting a while, Jasmine still hadn’t come out—women and their showers.

Perhaps he was too exhausted from the commotion; he didn’t wait for Jasmine and dozed off on the big bed, his eyes slowly closing in a daze.

The night was deep, and time seemed fleeting.

The moonlight stretched endlessly, and the stars shone brightly.