Your World Cup, Not Mine Anymore
My tone was cold and stern:
"I’m only here for the pillow. You can have Gavin!"
She looked startled for a second, then feigned innocence, using her most manipulative tone:
"Jane, what nonsense are you talking about? Please don’t misunderstand."
"I was just talking about the World Cup tickets, I didn’t mean anything else."
I emphasized every syllable, reiterating:
"I am just here for the pillow!"
Her expression was intriguing. Suddenly, as if remembering something:
"I know where it is. Follow me."
I followed her into the third room.
The room was set up as a luxurious cat sanctuary.