My alarm clock woke me up the next morning. It was only 5 am, and yet I needed to wake up to clean the villa and cook breakfast.
Damian had been sleeping since I came back to him last night. He didn't even want to wake up. This reminded me of the time when I was first diagnosed with depression. I spent my days asleep, not even wanting to talk, eat or take a bath if not for my mom walking me up and helping me. This time instead of my mom helping me, it was me helping Damian.
Last night my mom had called me again, telling me how shameful it was for my story to be punished like that. For everyone to know that I was raped was a disgrace to our family. Yeah, she was still close-minded in that sense.
But I shut her up by telling her that I loved Damian, and he loved me too. Luckily my mom was the type who never meddled in her kids’ love lives.
