I Slept with My Boss and Ran Away

Justin led Meredith to the base of the apartment building and, after some hesitant muttering, finally laid out everything to her.

“My parents, they arrived a few days ago…”

Meredith listened quietly, piecing together from Justin’s words that his father’s name was Quentin Thatcher and his mother’s name was Rosalind. His brother, Tristan, paralyzed from the waist down, was also brought here with his parents.

Justin’s parents were rural folks, their lives entwined with the soil they tilled for sustenance.

Tristan had been in an accident at a construction site years ago, resulting in his paralysis. There had been no compensation, as he’d been drunk before his shift, an act deemed his own responsibility.

After the accident, Tristan’s wife had left him, abandoning their five-year-old daughter who was now attending kindergarten back in their hometown. She wasn’t brought along to the city.

The purpose of this visit was clear-Justin’s parents needed his financial aid for Tristan’s treatment.© NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

After hearing Justin’s account, Meredith asked, “But why did they abandon you back then? Did they ever explain?”

Sitting down on a bench, Justin lit a cigarette and said, “They did. My mom said I was stolen at a train station. They searched for me but to no avail. Back in those days, with poor transport and communication, and being mere farmers, they had little means. It was only recently, through a website, that they found me. They’re old now, and with my brother’s condition, I’m their only support.”

“What’s your plan? Are you going to take care of them?” Meredith asked, broaching a pragmatic subject. “Justin, I know it’s not easy finding your birth parents. They are your flesh and blood, and you could support them, but life in this city isn’t easy for you either. Just a paralyzed brother is enough to overwhelm you. I was only in that room for a few minutes, and I can imagine what living there must be like for you.”

Suffocating, oppressive.

That was Justin’s state of being these past days.

The day after his parents arrived in the capital with Tristan, Justin took him to the hospital. The myriad of medical expenses had already cost thousands. His father suffered from bronchitis, his mother was in poor health, and back home, a young niece awaited his support. The thought weighed heavily on Justin.

Having spent most of his money to settle Fiona’s debts, he was short on funds.

But Justin, who longed for familial affection, couldn’t bear to turn them away, so he let them stay.

Justin quickly finished his cigarette, overwhelmed by the burden of his thoughts.

Meredith had known Justin for over two decades, yet this was the first time she witnessed him so silent, so troubled.

He was that kind of person-tender-hearted and emotional, preferring to endure hardship himself rather than trouble others.

Justin managed a wry smile and said, “Meredith, don’t worry. They’re just here for Tristan’s treatment. They’ll return home in a few days.”

But Meredith felt a deep sympathy for Justin. His parents hadn’t come to the capital simply to reconnect with him but to seek treatment for their other son.

If their true intention was solely to find their lost son, they wouldn’t have brought the other to the capital. And earlier, when Justin had returned home, she had noticed that his parents were somewhat indifferent. The joy one would expect at the reunion with a long-lost child was absent.

She felt Justin deserved better, and it pained her.

Meredith and Justin had been out for a long while, and his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Thatcher, peered out the window, watching them. Fiona, too, had stealthily followed downstairs, eavesdropping from the building’s entrance.

Inside the apartment.

Mrs. Thatcher watched the two figures below and remarked, “What’s the story with this girl? Why is Ainsley so anxious to talk to her downstairs? What can’t we hear?”

Ainsley was Justin’s given name.

Mr. Thatcher coughed twice, hands clasped behind his back, and said, “Whatever her story, we’re Ainsley’s parents, and he has to take care of us. Tristan is his brother; Ainsley can’t ignore that. I’ve already told them to bring Gemma along. She can attend school here, and we’ll live in the city from now on. It’s so much better than the mountains.”

Gemma was Tristan’s daughter, Justin’s niece.

The family planned to settle in the city, wanting to share in Justin’s more fortunate life.

The couple, haunted by poverty, found everything in the apartment appealing and the allure of the bustling city too tempting to resist.

Mrs. Thatcher, feeling a pang of guilt, said, “We sold Ainsley back then. If he finds out it wasn’t a theft…”

Mr. Thatcher shot Mrs. Thatcher a sharp glance, “Are you out of your mind? What’s the use of telling him that? Just stick to the story we told him. He has to take care of us regardless. And stop talking about it; keep it to yourself.”