It's Not Too Late

When I just got out of rehab, I saw a parked Audi. This luxury car appeared out of place next to the small rehab center.

I glanced at it and was about to leave.

The person who got out of the car called me.

It was Mark.

He looked more mature than three years ago.

But I only took one glance at him..

My teacher at the rehab said it was impolite to stare at others, especially someone you liked.

Having spent three years at the rehab, I had been completely brainwashed by teachers there.

Mark told me to get in the car, and I obediently did.

I sat in the back seat, staring at my own pants leg motionlessly.

Mark sat next to me, and I could feel his intense gaze.

The atmosphere in the car was very subtle.

I didn't even dare to breathe.

However, I couldn’t help coughing.

It was an old habit.

The car stopped at Mark's old family mansion.

His grandmother lived there.

If I were to remember correctly, today was Mark's grandmother's eightieth birthday.

I had a rough idea of why Mark had come to pick me up.

"Mark, I didn't bring a gift." I looked at Mark's back, hesitated for a moment, and finally called out to him.

The moment Mark turned around, my heart pounded, and I quickly lowered my head.

I knew very well that my racing heart wasn't due to excitement; it was fear.

I didn't know when my courage seemed to have been shattered.

I became afraid as long as someone looked at me.

I would even have nightmares, dreaming of numerous pairs of eyes fixated on me.

"Come along." Mark ignored my words and instructed me to follow him.

He was as indifferent as ever, or rather, he was only this indifferent to me.

I had to jog to barely keep up.

"Girl, you're back, come in quickly."

Mark's grandmother was waiting at the door.

She had a youthful spirit, like that of a mischievous child, and she was incredibly kind to me.

Back then, she supported me in pursuing Mark and would secretly tell me Mark's whereabouts.

I walked up to her and called her " Ms. Anderson Sr."

“Girl, why do you seem so distant from me? Are you blaming me?"Mark's grandmother patted my head, full of affection.

I shook my head at her, indicating that I wasn't.

How could I blame her?

Three years ago, if it hadn't been for her assertive intervention, I would have probably ended up in prison.

The rehab center here was externally known as an "educational institution."

Only those who had been inside knew what it was really like: a fate worse than death.