Noah felt the walls of the small canteen closing in on him. He didn't try to argue with the owner, and he certainly didn't look at the strangers who were busy turning his trauma into content.
Instead, he pulled his collar up, ducked his head, and walked toward the exit with a forced, unnatural calmness. Even as he retreated, the air behind him was thick with the mechanical click of camera shutters and the low, buzzing hiss of whispers.
However, the most painful sound wasn't the judgment of strangers, but the voice of the woman he had trusted for years.
When the boss lady realized Noah was leaving without ordering, her "concerned" facade crumbled instantly.
She began shouting after him, her voice booming over the quiet murmurs of the customers. When Noah refused to turn back, she grew spiteful.
She began hurling insults at his back, accusing him of becoming snobbish and "too proud" simply because he had shared a bed with the President.
