The Return of the Lonely Girl

Every month, I sent money to my stepfather through Lewis, hoping to keep him calm and prevent any trouble.

But just three months in, my stepmother showed up at the factory, causing a scene.

She grabbed my hair and slapped me hard across the face.

"Emma, so you've grown some wings, huh?" she shouted.

"Not even sending money home anymore!"

Dazed from the blows, I quickly tried to explain that my stepfather had taken all the money.

He must have hidden it from her while squandering it on gambling and drinking.

But she wouldn't listen, throwing a fit like a madwoman as she continued to pull my hair and hit me.

Lewis, watching from the sidelines, shrank back, clearly afraid to get involved.

Then one of my male coworkers couldn't take it anymore; he pushed her away in anger, which only made her scream louder.

"No wonder you're broke! You must be out with some man!" she yelled.

Men, men—she only thought about men!

Did she really believe I was like her, unable to survive without one?

I wished I could silence her once and for all to stop her from barking like a dog.

As I reached out to pull her away from the break room, she suddenly dropped to the floor, flailing her arms and crying out for everyone to see.

"Come look! This shameless girl is sleeping with men and not sending any money home!"

"Ah, poor me! I came all this way just to find out what's happening!"

That's not true! It's a lie!

I shouted back, hands on my hips. This woman was twisting the truth and using her age as a shield.

She wasn't my mother; we had no blood ties!

But her wailing and dramatic performance drew whispers from the crowd.

Their glances at me and my coworker were filled with scorn and disdain.

"Tsk tsk, looks like these two are having an affair."

"They seemed so innocent before; who knew they were so reckless?"

"If my daughter dared to do something like this, I'd be ashamed enough to die."

My coworker suddenly shouted, "Shut up! You don't get to judge!"

He stepped up to my stepmother and pulled her off the ground by her collar, towering over her.

His expression was cold and intense as he spoke in a low voice filled with menace.

"She said it clearly. Your husband took the money. If you want cash, go ask him."

He leaned closer to her ear and hissed, "If you cause any more trouble, you won't see tomorrow's sun. Go ahead and test me."

Hearing this made her back away in fear, instantly switching to a conciliatory tone.

"Okay, okay! I'll go find him."

She was always one to bully the weak but wouldn't dare challenge someone who stood up to her.

"Emma," she warned as she turned to leave, "if you dare lie about this, I'll come back for you!"

With that, she hurried off as if fleeing from danger.

I was stunned by this unexpected act of heroism from my coworker.

He was only about five foot seven and looked frail, yet he had stood up to my stepmother without flinching.

Glancing at his name tag revealed his name was Kyle—someone who seemed cherished by his family.

After the chaos settled down, I wanted to thank him but didn't get the chance before he slipped away.

The next time I saw him was in a corner of the storage room where he had buried his face in his arms and was quietly sobbing.