Winifred sat alone at the playground for what felt like hours, a deep chill settling into her bones. Finally, she stood up, ready to head back.
She pulled out her phone to check the time, only to find the screen dark. It must have died at some point.
It had only been on one bar when she left the house, so it was no surprise.
The winter sky was already dimming; it was probably only five or six o'clock.
As Winifred started walking, the biting wind cut through her clothes, feeling like it was freezing her solid.
She remembered that the clothes she’d left at Yvan’s place weren’t very warm. She decided to swing by her old apartment to grab some warmer things before going back to Pinehill Residences, Unit 1.
Standing downstairs at her old building, she felt a sudden urge to turn and run.
The red paint on her door… it probably hadn't been cleaned off yet.
She instinctively flinched from facing that mess again.
Even though the words scrawled on her door were slander, rumors were powerful. Anyone who didn't know the truth would see it and immediately judge her.
But some things just had to be faced.
Yvan had casually mentioned that morning that he would take care of it, and in her panic, she hadn't objected. But thinking about it now, she knew it was her mess to clean up. She shouldn't have burdened him with it.
Winifred pulled on a mask and drew her hood up, hiding her face as much as possible.
She was terrified of running into someone she knew, of having to expose her vulnerability to them.
Keeping her head down, she quickly climbed the stairs to the sixth floor.
Thankfully, she didn't encounter anyone along the way.
When she reached her floor, she was stunned to see that the red paint on her door was completely gone.
The door had been repainted, and even the stray splatters on the wall had been meticulously cleaned away.
The entire doorway was spotless, as if the ugly scene from the morning had just been a bad dream.
Winifred was amazed at how quickly Yvan had acted.
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