When I went to wash my hands, I noticed Anita glaring at me from the kitchen. She then emerged, swept past me muttering under her breath, and rushed up the stairs to our room. I followed her, a little surprised. ‘I didn’t abuse her,’ I pointed out. ‘It’s enough for a man to simply stand there and watch. It’s worse than shouting at her yourself. How could you all pounce on that woman without knowing a thing about her? Is it her fault alone? You should all be ashamed of yourselves. Not one of you had the guts to even hear her out. How could they treat another woman like that?’
