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FORTY-TWO

ELLEN

Oliver looked like a mess. There was a shiner around his left eye, his lower lip was cut and his hair which was ever so sleek looked disheveled. A drunken grin was plastered on his face. Dante gave me a sympathetic look.

"What happened?" I asked again, inching closer to them and helping Dante to lead him to the bed.

"He got a bit of bad news and he got drunk and got into a fight."

I stared at Oliver who was now lying on the bed, on his back, mumbling some nonsense I could not understand. His shirt was stained with something crimson. I stared at it for a while hoping it was not blood.

"I can take him to the living room instead of bothering you with his mess."

"No, do not worry. I am his wife, I should clean up after him," I said, emphasizing 'wife.'

Oliver began to whimper as if he was crying. I looked at him and shot Dante a curious stare. Dante hiked his shoulders.

"He is hurt. But he is definitely going to regret this in the morning. Please, just try and underst
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