A few days later, Paul’s parents arrived in a massive black Escalade that looked out of place on the dusty town roads. The local kids gathered to stare at the luxury vehicle, whispering in awe.
They watched as Paul’s mother, a sharp-featured woman in expensive jewelry, and his father, a portly man in a tailored linen suit, supervised the loading of Paul’s luggage. Paul looked different already—he’d put on his “city” persona, looking down his nose at the town he’d just spent months in.
He climbed into the leather interior, the heavy door shutting with a solid thud that sounded like a final gavel. The SUV roared to life and sped away, leaving a cloud of dust that settled over the onlookers. Paul was gone, leaving his “mistake” behind.
Valerie watched the dust settle, realizing she couldn’t stay. The town gossip started almost immediately. When she walked to the grocery store, she could feel the eyes on her. The whispers followed her down every aisle.
The local men were the worst. Some looked at her with pity, others with a newfound, disrespectful boldness.
“She’s damaged goods now,” she overheard one man say at the gas station. “Guess she wasn’t as ‘good’ as we thought. Shame her grandma isn’t around to see what she’s become.”
Then came the late-night knocks on her door. Men she’d known her whole life suddenly thought she was “available” because she’d “slipped up” with the city boy. The logic was cruel: if she did it for him, why not for them?
Valerie cried until she had no tears left. Then, she got angry. She realized Paul was never coming back, and Silver Creek was no longer home. She packed a single suitcase, locked the cottage, and gave the key to a neighbor to keep an eye on the place.
She took the 5:00 AM Greyhound bus to the city, leaving before the sun could expose her departure.
In high school, she’d taken a vocational course in textiles. It was a practical skill she’d never thought she’d use, but it saved her. She found work at a large manufacturing plant that produced high-end bedding and linens.
The job was grueling, but it provided a steady paycheck and a small studio apartment in a complex for working mothers. It wasn’t much, but it was hers.
The complex had a small community center with a few computers. Every night, after her shift and after she’d eaten a meager dinner, Valerie would sit at those computers until the early hours of the morning. She began teaching herself graphic design and 3D modeling through online tutorials.
She knew she couldn’t work the factory floor forever. The future was digital, and she was determined to be a part of it. She had a sharp mind and a photographic memory; once she saw a process, she mastered it.
She saved every penny. She didn’t go to movies, she didn’t buy new clothes, and she certainly didn’t date.
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