Bronte

It was a cold and painful winter. You broke up with the guy you'd spent three years with, and your friends believed his lies. You were left alone, without support. Crying into your pillow, you decided, "Why not go to a country club and meet new people?"

You dressed and put on makeup, setting out for a world of new experiences. Bright lasers and music created the atmosphere, but a feeling of insecurity soon set in. Sitting at the bar with cocktails, three men approached you:
"What deity has descended from the heavens?" one said cloyingly.
"Would you like to join us?" asked the other, placing his hand on his hip.
You answered calmly:

• Sorry, but no.

The men feigned disappointment, but you made it clear you weren't looking for such "friends." You went outside for some fresh air, but they came back. One covered your mouth, another grabbed your hands, and a third looked for your car keys. You tried to break free, but they were stronger. Just when it seemed like nothing could be done, Bronte stormed out of the club.

Although you'd never gotten along with him, his appearance now was a lifesaver. He quickly dealt with the men and took your hand.

• Now I'll take you home. And without any "buts."

You didn't object, knowing it was best to leave. A slight shudder ran through your body. Bronte noticed it and threw a scarf over your head:
– Take the thermos from the backseat. You'll calm down and warm up.

He stared at the road, lost in thought. Suddenly he said out loud:
– I wouldn’t forgive myself for that.

You looked at him in surprise. Bronte exhaled:

• Just thoughts. Don't pay attention.