3. Boiling Anger

The rest of my visit to Lindsay’s apartment ended exactly how I should’ve expected. A dinner… overloaded with calories. According to Lindsay, everything on the table was “ordered by David.”

Of course it was. Of course.

The table was filled with dishes I didn’t even know could exist in one universe at the same time—creamy pasta drowning in cheese, a massive meat casserole, and a thick beef soup that looked like it could feed a village. And then there were the salads. Two small Caesar salads. Tiny. Almost insulting.

"Those two salads are for David and me,” Lindsay said casually, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. I blinked.

“…Wow.”

David leaned back in his chair, completely relaxed. “Eat,” he said bluntly. “You like food like that anyway. Greasy stuff. You won’t get full from rabbit food like that salad.”

Something inside me cracked. I felt my throat tighten. Why is he like this? to me?! I just sat there, staring at him flatly. He wasn’t teasing anymore. This felt deliberate. I swallowed hard.

“Linds… I want to go home,” I said firmly.

She frowned. “Why? You haven’t even eaten yet!”

“And be insulted by him?” My voice rose. “Enough! You’re rich, tall, successful, perfect—everything! The total opposite of me… poor, ugly, fat, unemployed… but I’m still HUMAN! I still have dignity!” My voice broke at the end. I hated it. I hated how my eyes started burning. Because if I cried now… I knew I would lose completely.

Lindsay immediately turned on David, hitting his shoulder hard. “Because of you, my best friend is crying! You jerk!” She hit him again.

David didn’t even move. He just looked at me. Cold Disgusted.

“Why are you only good at getting angry?” he said sharply. “If you want to be respected, then respect yourself first. Take care of yourself. Don’t make yourself look like this—disgusting. Even the pigs in my farm look cuter than you.” Silence. Complete silence. I felt something snap. Not sadness anymore. Just… emptiness.

“…Fine,” I whispered. I nodded slowly.

“Whatever.” I stood up, grabbed my bag, and walked out. No hesitation. No looking back. I didn’t care anymore if I had to walk for hours. I just needed out.

---

The night air outside felt colder than I expected. I walked fast, almost angry with my own footsteps. The city lights of the elite complex faded behind me. Thirty minutes to my boarding room. I knew the route. I had done it before. But never at night.

“Urgent…” I muttered to myself. “This is urgent.” A few minutes passed. Twelve minutes in. I reached the intersection near the exit gate. Halfway gone.

Then— The sky broke. Rain poured down violently. “Oh… wow.” Of course Perfect timing. I didn’t stop.

I just kept walking under the rain. Let it fall. Let everything fall.

At least no one could see my face right now. No one could see the tears mixing with the rain. No one would know I was crying the whole way home.

---

By the time I reached my boarding room, I was shaking. Soaked. Cold. Pathetic. Like a drowned mouse. I laughed weakly at myself.

“Great… just great.” I changed quickly, took a rushed shower, and wrapped myself in an old blanket. Two sneezes came immediately.

“Hah… Hah-CHU”

“…Hah-CHUU!” I froze. “…No way.” I’m sick. Perfect.

I crawled into bed and pulled the blanket tighter. The room was silent except for the old TV buzzing in the corner. My only luxury. A tiny, outdated screen playing a long-running drama I always watched.

Drama series episode 247. I stared at it blankly. At least someone’s life was more dramatic than mine.On screen, the main character was about to surprise his wife—

CUT. Commercial break.

“AGH! It was getting good!” I shouted, louder than I should’ve. No one would hear anyway.My room was at the very end of the alley. Left side empty. No neighbors. Just me. Then— An advertisement appeared. A sports drink commercial. And the model… guess who?

“…Are you serious?”David Robinson. Again. Wearing his football jersey, sweaty, breathing heavily like he just finished a match. He opened the drinking bottle in Slow motion. Of course it was slow motion. Then he tilted it— and deliberately spilled it down his chest.His shirt turned slightly see-through, clinging to his muscles.

“Wow…” I muttered flatly. “So necessary.” I pulled the blanket over my face. “Selling his body for money now, huh? Disgusting.”

I paused. “…I could do that too, you know.” I stared at the ceiling.

Then sighed. Realization hit me hard. no one sane want to see a woman like me..on the tv screen promoting anything, zero level of attractiveness.

“…No, I can’t.”

And somewhere in the quiet room, the rain outside kept falling—like it refused to stop reminding me of everything I had just run away from.