The next day, I woke up with a headache. I couldn't sleep at all last night after thinking about how Christian forgot about me.
The pain was still present, and I had no idea when it would go away.
"Second Miss, please get ready for Sunday service," the maid called out after knocking on my door.
I hummed in reply, still lying on my bed, looking at the ceiling with hollow eyes. I had no motivation to go anywhere or do anything; I only wanted to lie in my room for the rest of my life.
After a few minutes of not moving, I finally got up and began to get ready.
Maybe I can pray today. Pray that Christian recovers quickly and that he remembers me again.
I wasn't sure if it was considered selfish to pray that someone remembers you, but I was desperate. Christian was my saving grace. Without him, my life had no meaning. I was only a pawn to my parents.
Without much thought, I walked over to my closet after showering and put on a very standard Sunday dress.
