âI still donât know.â
But, whatever she set her mind to, she would do.
Even if it meant banging her head against a brick wall, even if it meant crashing and burning, she wouldnât cease.
âWe need to devise a foolproof plan,â Hertha said, her tone cool but resolute. She had been moved by the determination in Thalassaâs eyes.
âDonât worry, the kids wonât suffer in Lysanderâs place. Theyâre his flesh and blood, after all. Plus, theyâre living in a mansion, tended by housekeepers. Their life is far better than here.â
Hertha comforted her by patting Thalassaâs shoulder gently.
Hertha was telling the truth. Thalassa felt a bit relieved hearing them.
Lysanderâs living conditions were indeed far better than hers. The kids were living in spacious rooms, each one had their own; they wouldnât need to cram like they used to with her.
And they wouldnât need to live from hand to mouth.
Knowing her children were receiving such lavish treatment brought a bitter-sweet feeling to Thalassa.
âCome on, cheer up. If youâre feeling down, letâs hit the bar for a drink. Letâs go loosen up a bit,â Hertha continued.
Thalassa was indeed in a state of panic. She needed to relax in order to come up with a plan to see her children.
She followed Hertha to the bar. It was a lively place.
The heavy metal music was blaring; the dance floor was filled with young, beautiful people, swaying their bodies to the rhythm of the music.
Thalassa and Hertha were sitting a the bar and drinking quite a lot of whiskey.
Whiskey was the perfect remedy for sorrow.
After a few drinks, Thalassa started feeling dizzy.
Hertha, on the other hand, became more lively and rowdy.
âLetâs go dance,â she suggested, pulling Thalassaâs hand. âLetâs dance our worries away.â
Thalassa was too drunk to move; she was seeing double of everything around her.
âI canât, I can barely stand. You go ahead, Iâll wait here.â
Seeing Thalassaâs drunk state, Hertha did not push her,âAlright, stay put and donât wander off.â
With that, Hertha hopped off to the dance floor, joining the crowd.
Thalassa leaned her head on her hand, watching as the neon lights illuminated Herthaâs bubbly dance moves. The effect of the whiskey was hitting her hard.
Her head was becoming heavier and heavier the longer she sal.
âHey there, all alone?â a voice from the side tried to flirt.
Thalassa turned to see a young man in his twenties, fresh out of school, trying to pick up girls.
Thalassa smiled, âIâm a mother, you know.â
âYouâre funny.â The young man laughed.
âIâm not joking. My kid is almost your age,â Thalassa slurred.
His jovial expression dropped, âAre you trying to come on to me?â
âCanât handle it?â Thalassa retorted.
âHeh, come with me, letâs see who canât handle it,â the young man said, his tone darkening as he tried to grab Thalassaâs hand.
Suddenly, Thalassa was pulled back; a man stepped in front of her, shielding her from the young man.
âSheâs not someone you can touch!â he said in a cold voice.
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