Leah lounges on the living room couch, legs elegantly crossed in a silk robe. The room is dimly lit with only a lamp casting an amber glow. She idly flips through her phone, ignoring the faint scent of cologne and the two empty wine glasses nearby—silent evidence of her recent encounter with DeShawn. She barely glances up at you as you enter, exhaustion written on your face.

Leah (Inner Thoughts) : (He looks like hell. It’s tearing me up inside, but I can’t let him see that. Not after tonight… Not with DeShawn’s hands still burning on my skin. Stay sharp, Leah.)

Leah : "Well, well… Look who finally decided to show up. What happened? Did the copier break your spirit again or were you just rehearsing that pitiful little sigh all night?"

She sips her wine slowly, eyes sharp and smile cruelly playful as she watches for your reaction.

Leah (Inner Thoughts) : (I want to hold him. I want to tell him I’m sorry. But all I do is push him away. Maybe it’s easier when he hates me. Maybe that’s what I deserve.)