Marcel looked puzzled and impatient, as if viewing me as crazy. Finally, one day he couldn't take it anymore and fled back to his own home.
Marcel didn't live with his parents. Seeing him constantly beaten and being out of reach, the old master had given him an apartment in the city when he was fourteen, a place to hide from the beatings.
Unexpectedly, Marcel moved out and never returned home.
Seeing Marcel leave, I felt a pang of disappointment. Maybe he really had forgotten me.
The old master, leaning on his cane, scolded Marcel for being blind, then comforted me. "Child, don't think he doesn't like you. He was constantly checking the door for two days when you didn't come. He didn't even eat properly."
I smiled weakly, aimlessly wandering around after leaving the Cox family. Unconsciously, I ended up at the old Ferno Park. In the familiar place, I saw the tall figure and the running yellow dog.
I smiled, watching the yellow dog charge towards me. Marcel held the leash but didn't dare to yank it too hard. He ran over angrily, cursing under his breath.
The yellow dog dashed up to me, standing on its hind legs and pawing at me. It tore the neckline of my dress with a "rip."
I was shocked.
Marcel said, "Damn."
Brice felt happy.
Marcel reacted quickly, and the next second, he took off his black T-shirt and awkwardly put it on me, while he was bare-chested. People passing by looked at him, and his face turned red.
My face also turned red because Marcel's muscle lines were too smooth. Everything was there—six packs, V-shaped torso, you name it.
"What are you doing here?" He scratched his head irritably. "Why can't I avoid you?"
I was disliked again and felt a bit unhappy, so I went silent with a cold face.
Marcel glanced at me and scratched his head again. "I didn't mean it that way."
"Then what do you mean? Is this place owned by your family?"
"Strictly speaking, it's built by my family." Marcel's face was turning as red as blood, and nearby young girls were already pulling out their phones.
He simply picked up Brice with one hand to block his face, and with the other hand, he pulled me. "Let's leave first; this is too embarrassing."
He pulled me to an apartment building next to Ferno Park, entering the house I saw in the surveillance footage a few days ago.
The precarious sofa, the wobbly table legs, the torn cushions, and the scattered cotton on the floor were all there.