The only sound on the entire balcony was that of the hair dryer, drowning out their breathing.
Jasmine Yale's hands moved through Chale Cheney's short hair, her gaze exceptionally tender.
Chale Cheney seemed to enjoy it, holding Jasmine and gradually drifting off to sleep.
He slept, and she dried his hair for him.
"Mommy..." the little guy murmured as he hugged her waist.
Jasmine paused her hand.
Did he miss his mom?
Yet, she relished hearing him call her "Mommy," as if it ignited a long-standing yearning within her, overwhelming and vast.
The nights in Lonton were tranquil and peaceful; all foreign late nights seemed alike.
It was hard to say how it differed from back home, but it indeed wasn't quite the same.
Jasmine patiently dried the little one's hair until it was dry, then carried his soft little body towards the bedroom.
...
Five days later, it would be New Year's.
Calculating, this was the second New Year's she had spent with Little Chale.
