023

Eva

As I walked home, I couldn't help but think about Thelma's situation. I couldn't shake off the image of her wounded wrist, her leg, and her husband's dismissive behavior. The encounter had left me feeling worried and bitter.

Upon arriving home, I found myself without an appetite to continue the remaining food I had kept away. I badly wanted to call and message Thelma about the issue, but I was worried it might anger her even more. I couldn't shake off the thought of her husband, Mr. Thomas, and what I had seen him doing in the bedroom - chatting and smiling with someone else. It seemed like he was cheating on her. Why couldn't Thelma see this? I thought she was wise and perceptive.

The worst part was that she might be experiencing domestic violence. I felt compelled to reach out to her. Chewing my nails anxiously, I called her, but she didn't answer. She was probably asleep, or maybe she was avoiding my call? I paced around, debating whether to call again, but I hesitated, fearing