HAZEL
As badly as I wanted to, I didn’t cry in the car.
Not once.
Not when my lips were quivering. Not when my eyes were stinging. Not when the driver kept glancing at me with subtle question in his eyes through the rearview mirror. Not when I caught the reflection of my pride crumbling.
Not even when the guard at the gate asked if I was okay in that cautious tone that told me the news had spread already.
I ignored him and the odd looks from all the starves and stormed in my main doors of my father’s house, stormed through the corridors like I wasn’t coming apart inside, and marched straight to my father’s study to demand answers.
As I pushed the door open, I started my rant. “Have you seen the videos circulating? This is the reason why I didn’t want to marry an uncultured man like A
