The rushing mud buried the hotel in an instant. I was pinned under a collapsed beam, silently waiting for death.
But Vivienne fought her way back against the flow, digging with her bare hands from dawn until nightfall.
“Dorian, don’t be scared, I’m here!”
She carried me on her back and walked the whole night.
Only when she finally got me to the hospital did I notice that she had lost both of her shoes.
Her feet were covered in pale, water-soaked wounds, overlapping each other.
Her always-pretty manicured nails were broken from the roots, bloody and torn.
“Dummy, why are you crying? As long as you’re safe, it’s worth it even if I end up crippled!”
In that moment, even the spring breeze couldn’t compare to the smile in her eyes.
On New Year’s Eve, the three of us were making dumplings when Lucian showed up, looking a complete mess.
He was the son of a neighbor from our hometown. His family had gone bankrupt and he was hiding everywhere because of debt collectors.
Because my sister remembered how his family once gave her a bowl of hot porridge when she was young, she didn’t hesitate to take responsibility for him.
She quit her stable, respectable job and started doing business.