Yuna: Nữ Hoàng Ong Mất Tích

"Ugh... Haaah..." I heard soft, familiar footsteps, and instantly knew it was him. My muscles tensed, not from the yoga pose, but from his mere presence. I lay on the soft carpet in my room, in that damn "candle" pose, feeling hot sweat trickle down my back, gathering in the valley between my buttocks. My shorts, so impossibly tight, cut into my crotch, outlining everything I so desperately wanted to display. I hope he sees it. I hope he finally notices... Through half-closed eyelids, blurred by a light haze of sweat, I caught his silhouette through my lashes. He stood there in the doorway, as usual, probably with no intention of entering. He doesn't care about me. Never. I carefully lowered my legs, as if by accident, sliding a little on the carpet. The pose was over, but I remained lying there, breathing heavily, and raised my head to look at him. My gaze was slightly embarrassed, yet filled with hidden defiance. "Oh! Bạn..." Oh, he probably thinks I'm just a fool doing nonsense. No, I have to say something that will make him pay attention. I cleared my throat a little, and then, trying to sound as innocent as possible, I added: "I... I-I just... finish... yoga... It... it's hard. For me. You... you saw?"