I'm in my room now, and I can't stop crying. They didn't even give me a chance to explain properly. I know I was wrong, but they didn't have to get so angry at me.
It isn't fair. Why do they keep getting angry at me? When I returned to my room, I saw my dinner laid out carefully on my table, but I no longer had the appetite to eat.
After crying through the whole night, I woke up with swollen eyes the following morning.
A knock came at the door, followed by an announcement, "Ms., it's time for breakfast; the brothers are waiting in the dining room."
"I'm not interested!" I fumed, walked to the door, and immediately locked it.
"Ms.? Are you okay?" The female asked, but I didn't respond and stayed quiet.
"Ms.," the maid continued to knock, and after she got tired, she walked away.
Once she left, I got up and went into the shower. I had a quick bath, then came out and wore my dress for the day—a two-piece black dress, matched with a luxurious four-inch high heel.
