Si Ang stood alone by the window, watching the distant sun sink below the horizon bit by bit.
He had opened the window just a crack. Afraid the breeze would reach Richie, he dared not open it any farther, leaving only a small gap to let in fresh air.
Gentle breezes stirred the heavy curtains beside the window. As the distant sun gradually disappeared, the sky slowly darkened.
Behind him, Richie lay on his bed, still fast asleep, with no telling when he would wake.
He had asked his father to bring in a medical team with their equipment, but they would not reach his home until tomorrow. All he could do was pray that Richie could hold on a little longer.
The sky grew darker and darker, until Richie's whole body was shrouded in darkness.
Si Ang's small figure looked rather lonely beside the towering floor-to-ceiling window.
Only when it was pitch-black outside, and too dark to see a hand in front of one's face inside, did Richie slowly stir awake.
After waking, Richie made a few sleepy noises, stretched, and reached for his bedside lamp.
His hand found nothing.
Richie suddenly grew a little panicked. He felt the covers beneath him. The bed he was lying on was enormous, definitely not his single bed at the Forger house.
Nor was it the sofa he had fallen asleep on that afternoon.
That left only one possibility: this was Si Ang's bed.
Once he realized he was still at Si Ang's house, Richie felt less alarmed.
He threw off the rather heavy covers and slowly felt his way through the darkness to get out of bed.
Worried that Richie might be uncomfortable in his sleep, Si Ang had already removed his shoes and socks. Now the floor felt a little