James Black watched the person who had stopped calling out to him; her gaze had never left his body. It was so dark, yet he didn’t know what exactly she could see, or perhaps, she merely knew the direction in which he lay, so she maintained that posture, looking at the unseen him.

In Jane’s eyes, James gradually failed to see any signs of life; he only read a thick sense of despair from them, layer by layer, along with many other emotions, such as pain, such as guilt.

However, after looking for a long time, James could not find one particular emotion in her dying eyes that should have been there.

Love.

There was no love.

It was still Jane Sampson, still the same pair of eyes that belonged to her.

In the dream, she had everything in her eyes when she looked at him, everything but love.

This realization suddenly made James feel as though he was suffocating. He struggled to get closer to her to see more clearly, but his surroundings were in complete turmoil.

And like that, he suddenly awoke from the dream.

Upon opening his eyes, it was still the bedroom he knew before sleep, and the person in his arms was still sleeping deeply and sweetly against him.

James loosened his hold on her and sat up slowly, checked the time—it was only five o’clock in the morning.

He softly got down, put on a coat, took an old pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the drawer, and went out to the balcony.

Lighting up a cigarette, James took a deep drag and felt the cold wind blowing against his body, which brought him back to his senses just a little.

Raising his hand, he wiped his forehead, which was covered in cold sweat.

James gently closed his eyes, and the eyes from the dream involuntarily surfaced in his mind.

He dreamt a dream almost identical to what she had described—the small town shaken by an earthquake, with both of them trapped under the ruins.

James hastily snuffed out the barely smoked cigarette and hurried back into the bedroom. He turned on the light and looked at the peacefully sleeping person in the bed. He reached out and nudged her, "Jane Sampson, wake up."

Jane Sampson mumbled something, twisted her body, and turned over but did not wake up.

James did not give up; he nudged her again until she woke up, albeit reluctantly.

"What’s the matter, what time is it?" Annoyed at being woken from a sound sleep, Jane kicked off the quilt straight onto the ground, glowering at James. Trembling with anger, she pointed at him with her finger, "If you dare say you woke me up for a morning run, I’m going to... I’ll strangle you!"

"Look at me," James said, taking her hand gently into the palm of his own. In the dream, he had seen this hand with fingers all bent; she didn’t cry out in pain, but it made his heart ache.

"You’re crazy!" Jane grumbled loudly at James, but still lifted her eyes to look at him, and huffed, "What’s up?"

James brought her palm to his lips and kissed it gently. He carefully observed her eyes as she looked at him, filled with a touch of grievance and a bit of displeasure at being woken up before she had had enough sleep.

But all those emotions were replaced by something tender after he kissed her palm.

It was apparent; only a moment ago, she was scolding him for having flaws, but her tone softened immediately afterward.

James bent over to pick up the quilt from the ground, lay back down, and covered them both with it, then lowered his head and kissed her.

He said, "Don’t close your eyes, keep them open and look at me."

Her long eyelashes fluttered gently like the wings of a butterfly. Following his words, she opened her eyes and looked at him, eyes full of confusion. She was always easy to console; even though she had been annoyed and kicked off her quilt after being disturbed early in the morning, her anger was no longer present, and all her attention was focused on him.