The crowd’s eyes followed me as I stumbled toward the restroom, their stares heavy with judgment. To them, I was nothing more than a criminal, my innocence irrelevant.
After tidying up as best I could, I stepped outside, only to see Gilbert and Irene walking arm-in-arm toward the exit.
"Take a taxi back on your own," he said dismissively. "Irene doesn’t like other people sitting in our car." His tone was final, leaving no room for protest.
I stood there, speechless. I had just been released from prison and had no money to my name.
Once, he had promised me that the passenger seat of his car would always belong to me. Now, I wasn’t even allowed near it.
The villa was miles away, and I had no choice but to start walking. The night grew colder with each step, and exhaustion weighed heavily on me. It wasn’t until much later that I came across a garbage truck.
The garbage truck dropped me off near the villa area. My legs, battered from beatings in prison and worn down by relentless labor, throbbed with every step. The nerve damage meant long walks were agonizing, but there was no other way.
When I finally reached the villa and opened the door, the sound of cheerful voices greeted me.