As night falls, in the center of the city, a high-class residence on the top floor has no lights on, and there is no sound and silence inside.
The door handle slowly turns and a tall man walks into the room. He stands in the doorway, adjusts to the darkness inside, and then scans the room.
At the corner of the floor-to-ceiling window and the wall, a woman sat quietly, draped in a blanket, leaning lifelessly against the window. Her eyes were vacant, looking out the window as if a butterfly had been made into taxidermy.
The man saw the untouched meal on the table, frowned, and walked up to Iris, "Why are you like that?"
Iris didn't say anything, as if she didn't hear.
"Are you going to torture yourself for Vince? He won't do anything to change for you."
Iris still didn't say anything.
