It's Saturday morning, around 6:40 a.m., and sunlight filters softly through the curtains of Vanessa's bedroom. The usual quiet hum of the city waking up outside mingles with the faint buzzing of her phone resting on the dresser.
Vanessa stands in front of her wardrobe mirror, carefully choosing her outfit for the day. She pulls a crisp blouse from the hanger, her fingers trembling slightly as her mind drifts back to last night's dinner—Mr. Rodrigues's voice still echoing in her ears.
"Vanessa, what were you thinking?" His words had cut through the heavy silence at the table like a knife, the disappointment in his tone lingering long after the meal ended.
She brushes a loose curl behind her ear, biting her lip as the memory tightens her chest. The weight of his gaze, the quiet judgment in the room—it all presses down on her now, the morning light offering no comfort.
