Layleen
I don't know if anyone else is listening, but I pray to the Goddess that I'm the only one who hears this.
How do they know? And if they do, does that mean everyone else knows too?
The coffee girl from yesterday reacted strangely when she heard my name. And the chef—he didn't look down on me, not even today. Were they just being polite, or were they holding back because they already knew?
"Whore?!" The first girl practically shrieks the word, her voice slicing through the air like a blade.
I flinch. I can't help it.
At this point, I don't even care if they see my reaction. My entire body is trembling, the humiliation so intense I feel like I might collapse under its weight. I want to disappear—to be swallowed whole by the earth, burned to ash, erased from existence.
Whore. Whore. Whore.
