As the day transitioned into evening, I changed out of my work clothes and opted for the cozy combination of a soft, well-worn sweatshirt, its fabric imbued with countless memories of comfort and contentment and paired with an old pair of jeans, weathered by the passage of time. These were the garments of comfort, the armor of choice for facing the world beyond the Elite Oaks Resort. With a peculiar sense of detachment enveloping my being, I made my way out of the opulent halls of the esteemed Elite Oaks through the unassuming backdoor. There was a sense of relief, a yearning to return to the familiarity of the real world.
Walking along the busy street, I could feel myself getting farther away from the luxurious resort. It was a brief moment of freedom from the captivating influence that Mr. Colton had over me. However, my newfound independence was short-lived as a familiar voice broke through the background noise.
