"Miss Marsh, didn’t Mr. Bill come back with you? Do you still want me to keep the hangover soup warm for tonight?"
Brenda came out from the kitchen and, noticing Laura's red, swollen eyes, felt a pang of sympathy.
"Miss Marsh, those eyes of yours are meant for scientific research. It won’t be good if you cry them out."
Laura responded with a bright smile, thinking of how in the past, Darren would often be out for social events.
She would always ask the small kitchen to prepare some nourishing porridge and hangover soup for him in the evening.
Thinking about today... she wondered if Darren would return. After all, he was like an uncle to her, the one who had raised her for so many years.
After a moment of contemplation, she nodded.
"Keep it warm. If he comes back, he can have it. If not, just throw it away."
Laura stood beneath a large photograph in the living room, a photo taken when she was eighteen, where she had insisted on having a picture taken with Darren.
At the time, she had her own motives. She thought the large photo displayed in the living room looked like a wedding picture, so her one and only moment of stubbornness and insistence was to have this oversized photo taken.
Back then, Darren had simply smiled, assuming she felt insecure since she had just arrived and wanted to establish that he was the one in charge.
Laura gently stroked the photo, reminiscing about the past. A faint smile unconsciously appeared at the corners of her lips.
"Brenda, help me take this photo down."
Since Melanie had returned, there was no need for her to keep these things around and embarrass herself.
From now on, the owners of this place would be Darren and Melanie. And to him, she was nothing more than a scheming woman trying to seduce men.
"Miss Marsh, this isn’t..." Brenda looked at her in confusion.
Laura only smiled, her eyes filled with unshed tears. "As the saying goes, out with the old, in with the new."
Now that Melanie had returned, why should she stay here and be an eyesore?
By the time Laura had finished packing her things, it was already late at night.
She didn’t feel tired at all; she just sat on the sofa, waiting for Darren to come back, like the countless nights before.
Since she was leaving, it was time to say a proper goodbye.
As she was thinking this, the door was suddenly pushed open from the outside.
Darren, reeking of alcohol, staggered in. His steps were unsteady and even his movements seemed more irritated than usual.
But when he saw her sitting upright on the sofa, a sense of inexplicable calm washed over his heart.
Thinking about everything that had happened today, Darren impatiently yanked at his tie, his tone harsh and dripping with sarcasm. "Did I tell you to leave? You only know how to go home? Laura, do you not know how to get to the hospital, or are you just pretending to be pathetic?"
Laura lowered her head, remaining silent. Her nails dug into her flesh as she inhaled the strong scent of alcohol from him.
She went over to support him, just like she used to, soft and gentle, like a little rabbit who never cried out in pain.
"Darren, there's hangover soup in the kitchen. You should have some to help with your stomach," Laura said softly.
Darren abruptly pulled his hand away from her grasp, his displeasure evident as he snapped, “Why didn't you fight back? Didn’t you have any temper? Why did you just let those people talk down on you like that?"
Laura swallowed the bitterness in her throat. She sniffled, feeling a wave of helplessness and grievance.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to fight back, but what they said... was the truth.
After all, it was Darren himself who had told them the truth.
They stood there, neither of them moving.
Laura’s heart was filled with a mixture of conflicting thoughts, unsure if she should speak or not.
