Walking out of that country club felt like shedding a skin that had been suffocating me for too long. Outside, the cool night air hit my face, a stark contrast to the suffocating atmosphere I’d just left behind. As I walked away from Willowbrook, each step felt like a liberation, a reclamation of self that had been buried beneath layers of pretense and compromise.
I found myself wandering the quiet streets, my mind racing but at peace. For the first time, I allowed myself to breathe deeply and contemplate my next move. I had no plan, no clear destination, but I knew one thing—I couldn’t go back to the life I had just left behind. It was time to forge a new path, one that wouldn’t require me to shrink or change to fit someone else’s mold.
As I wandered, lost in thought, a sleek black car pulled up beside me. I recognized it immediately—it belonged to Mr. Blackwood. He rolled down the window and gestured for me to join him. Hesitant but intrigued, I got in. The car was warm and inviting, a subtle contrast to the chill outside.
