37: Burn.

This was a great and pathetic stupidity, reaching the level of believing something real.

His brow furrowed and he groaned in pain as he brought his hand to his right eye. He turned over in bed to face the front again. He opened his eyes, his breathing accelerated, and he made a grimace, propping himself up on his forearms on the bed.

"What the hell happened to me?" he wondered when he saw his reflection on his cellphone screen.

His eye was swollen and bruised, every touch causing even more pain. His gaze shifted to the back of the room.

"Good morning," he said with a cynical smile on his face. "How's your eye, Jahjah?"

Judging by his tone, she must have been the cause of it.

"Did you hit me?"

"Me? Not at all," she replied with a hypocritical touch. "I just gave you what you deserved for throwing away my beers."

"And you're still on about that, huh?" He sat on the edge of the bed, his hand on his eye. "It's over, get over it."

"Those beers were from France, the last ones of that brand.