Chapter 5

I sat in the nice cafe as the waiters passing by gave me quiet looks. I had grown used to that kind of contempt over the years, but I felt ashamed sitting across from Anna now.

I clasped my hands uneasily as they were covered in calluses and cuts.

Anna pushed the coffee toward me, and I quickly waved it away. "No, I don't drink coffee."

She looked a little surprised. "I remember this was your favorite. Did your tastes change? I'll ask the waiter to bring you something else."

My heart trembled when I heard her words.

My thoughts were suddenly brought back to four years ago, before Jackson Group went bankrupt. Anna used to wake up early every day to grind coffee for me, and the rich smell would pull me out of sleep.

Sometimes, I would take Anna to expensive cafes too. Now our positions have been reversed.

I gave her a bitter smile. "I don't drink coffee anymore. Hot water is fine."

I looked at her face, uneasy. "If hot water is too much trouble, cold water is fine too."

Anna's expression became complicated when she heard what I said.

I knew what she was thinking. I used to have it all and expected everything to be perfect. Forget cold water. Even the water I drank had to be imported.

Yet now, I could easily say that anything was fine. Back then, there had been no such thing in my life.

Anna did not say anything to me but instead asked the waiter to bring me a bottle of water. I thanked him quietly. When I saw him roll his eyes, I gave an awkward smile.

After the waiter left, there was only silence between the two of us.

After a long time, Anna finally said, "You've changed so much."

I smiled weakly. How could I not have changed?

When I first arrived in this city, I did not have any money on me. I was so hungry that I was losing consciousness. An old homeless man shared half a stale roll he had found with me. I smelled the sour stench coming off it and forced it down even as I gagged.

I had tried looking for work, but there was nothing I could do with my injured legs. I could not even manage the simplest manual labor.

With no other choice, I could only beg for money with that old man and sleep under a bridge to stay warm.

Fortunately, I still had the old homeless man with me.

But one night, he came down with a high fever.

I panicked and wanted to take him to the hospital, but every driver who passed refused to let us in once they saw what we looked like. Looking at his feverish face, I hated my useless legs for the first time.

I carried him on my back and crawled toward the hospital bit by bit. But he did not make it while we were halfway there. Before he died, he stuffed all the money he had saved into my hands and told me to find a job that could at least keep me fed, even if it meant selling roadside snacks.

That would still be better than begging.