"I told you to stop bringing women into the house!" A woman's voice, it was his mother, Martha. She was a fine woman in her thirties.
"Like I give a damn," a man's voice responded, filled with arrogance. It was Jargien's father, Tobien.
"I know you don't give a fuck, but there's a child in the house, and what will you say when he finds you fucking a woman in the hall, in the fucking hall?" Martha shouted at him, her face reddened with anger; she threw her hands in the air, clearly disgusted by his antics. They were in the bedroom, arguing for almost an hour. She stood two meters away from Tobien, a handsome and rugged man in his thirties. His moustache with sharp ends was twitching in irritation as he stared back at her, his eyes filled with defiance.
Then her peripheral vision caught a glimpse of Jargien peeking around the corner.
"Oh my god, son!" She walked out of the room and took the boy out of the hallway. She lifted him and walked out, and while they were going out, Jargien watched his father come out of the room, smoking a cigar, and he really didn't give a fuck about his son or his wife.
Jargien watched him with a blank expression, and if Tobien could see him, he could see the deep hatred in his eyes.
Martha and Jargien came out of the house, and they were greeted by the butler. She asked him to prepare the carriage and asked him to take it to Mr. Roalet's house.
As soon as it was done, Martha, still holding the boy in her embrace, got in. The coachman sat at the front, and the carriage moved towards the exit of the compound.
Jargien watched the mansion getting smaller as he wrapped his arms around his mother's neck.
Martha was apologising as she patted his back. Thinking that might have shook him.
The carriage exited the mansion's compound and was on the streets, moving towards Mr. Roalet's house, which was a couple of blocks away.