Chapter 1892 Mosquito Bites

• Evening crept in, staining the horizon with the color of cooling embers.
• Inside the bedroom, Finnegan sat at the edge of the mattress, shoulders drooping, his gaze fixed on the white linen to his left, where scattered drops of crimson formed a pattern like early plum blossoms daring to open in winter.
• A haze drifted across his mind, turning the room soft around the edges. Was she telling the truth all along? That she's truly worn on the outside, yet untouched beneath?