The restroom was silent, with only the sound of water dripping onto the floor, drip, drip, like time moving endlessly.
Sylvan Cheney's face was deep and brooding, akin to the sky before a storm, darkened by impending rain, with winds stirring and clouds gathering, his jawline tensely set, fists tightly clenched.
After a long while, Jasmine Yale finally spoke, her voice indifferent and composed, devoid of fluctuation: "My daughter is very good, very cute. I promised her that mom would work hard… buy her lots of delicious things, buy her pretty new clothes, and take her to fun places… Whatever other little girls have, her mom will give her too, spoil her, indulge her, let her grow up healthy and happy, will let her be very happy… The little girl is really obedient. When I go out to work, she stays with Grandma Santana, not crying or making a fuss…"
"The things I promised my daughter, I will do them all."
