Just like that, a whole week had gone by, and there were still no changes as she had expected there to be. She'd go around the house, trying her tricks, hoping he'd look at her and see the woman in her, but his eyes were never on her, and anytime they actually were, he always had something negative to say or he'd laugh till tears came out of his eyes.
She had practically been walking around the island with the shortest and skimpiest attires she had, but he still wasn't taking her seriously, instead, he was starting to imagine she needed a change of wardrobe. It seemed to him like she had no clothes to wear in the place. "Always going around naked," according to him.
And when night came, it was the same old story. He'd drink himself to stupor, and go to bed muttering the name of his dead wife, and saying the sweetest things about her in his sleep. While Luna would just lay down beside him, with his hand in hers till she woke up the next morning.