Was he not afraid of freezing to death?!
Tilda quickened her pace and approached him.
Lyndonâs eyes were closed, and he was sound asleep.
Several empty wine bottles were scattered around him.
He had drunk so much, and now he was passed out.
Frowning, Tilda squatted down and gently called, âLyndon, wake up.
â
Lyndon didnât respond, the strong smell of alcohol wafting from him.
He was clearly drunk and unconscious.
Clutched in his hand was a photo of him and Rosanna.
âMaâam, your husband is drunk.
You need to get him back as soon as possible.
Otherwise, heâll catch a cold sleeping in such a cold place,â the guard reminded.
Tilda nodded and stood up.
âCould you help me get him to the car?â
The guard didnât hesitate.
âOf course, let me help.
â
He tried to lift Lyndon, but the drunk man was too heavy.
After several attempts, he turned to Tilda.
âMaâam, donât just stand there.
Come help me.
â
Tilda hesitated, her fingers curling slightly.
After a moment, she swallowed her discomfort and moved to assist.
Each of them took one of Lyndonâs arms and draped it over their shoulders, helping him to his feet.
Their movements roused Lyndon from his stupor.
He frowned, struggling to open his eyes.
âDonât touch me,â he slurred, his voice heavy with drunkenness.
Tilda looked at him, noticing his bloodshot eyes.
He must have cried a lot, she thought.
She pressed her lips together and spoke softly.
âLyndon, itâs freezing out here.
Let me take you home.
â
âDonât touch me! I want to be with Rosa,â Lyndon mumbled, trying to pull away.