The door was not tightly closed, as if intentionally left ajar for her, easily pushed open with a gentle nudge.

Jesse entered Chelsea's room, softly calling out, "Sister, you're still not asleep?"

"You haven't slept either."

Chelsea closed her book, adjusted herself upright, and looked at Jesse, "What's the matter? Come, tell me."

Jesse approached, dressed in cartoon pajamas, pure cotton, washed so many times they had turned white, stepping gingerly on the expensive Persian carpet, exuding a sense of restraint.

"Please sit." Chelsea gestured for her to sit down, casually grabbed a shawl and tossed it to Jesse. "I'm not used to air conditioning. It's a bit chilly in...