PROLOGUE
RUTH
I am very chronically active on social media. Not that I'm an influencer or actor or something. My Instagram account is private too. I just like scrolling and doing nothing. To be honest, I don't even have a single hobby or something. Anyways, right now I'm on my big-ass leather cushion couch of my room watching my favorite series, "The Vampire Diaries," obviously. My unspoken morning routine. And as soon as I complete one episode and am just trying to hop onto another, I know it's already 7 in the morning and my mom will now wake up and come check on me. I hurriedly turn off the TV and put the blanket up to my head.
The morning routine I was talking about? It's that I start watching my show when everyone at home falls asleep (it's just my mom and me at home), and I watch until I think I might get caught. And in the morning I sleep like I never did. But today is different. I'm not going to sleep today. Why? Even I don't know. I just decided it out of nowhere, but I know that I can't keep up with anything I decide. I am not going to do anything in the end. But nothing's going to hurt in trying.
My mom didn't even knock and entered the room. She came. Saw me. And went back. like I was going to disappear in one night. Typical parent behavior. I put my glasses on, got up from my bed, and stood in front of the mirror. I look...okay. I'm not one of those girls who have a zero waist, big tits, and long height. I look normal. Not a very small waist, acceptable tallness, and I'm glad I have pale skin and pink lips. It makes me look appealing. My mid-length dark wolf-cut hair makes me look a little emo, but I like it. When you look at me, "ugly" is the last word that comes to your mind. With that, I stepped out of my room. I don't like cute stuff. I loathe it. My room is covered with posters of those sultry, cool artists and anime figures. As soon as I reached the kitchen, my mom rushed to hug me and gave me a morning kiss on the cheek. "Good morning, sweetheart," she said. "Morning, Mom," I replied.
"What do you want to eat for breakfast?"
"Anything. Scrambled eggs, maybe."
"Okay. I'll make them for you."
"Thank you."
She turned to the stove and started cooking for me. My mom, a.k.a. Margaret Gunnerson. The owner of the distinguished fashion brand "Chopper." She's fucking talented. And rich. I wonder if I can ever become like her. I absentmindedly play with the salt box on the table. My mom suddenly said, "Here is your mango juice with scrambled eggs." She puts the huge plate of scrambled eggs in front of me.
When did she do that? Am I too lost in my thoughts that I didn't even notice she was done? Well, hell if I care. I have my eggs, and I have my juice.
"Uh...thanks, Mom," I said. My mom squinted at me and asked, "Ruth, are you okay?" Why is she asking me that? Am I not looking okay? "Yeah. I'm fine. Why do you ask?" I said. "I just wanted to make you assured that I care about you," she replied.
She is the best mother ever.
"You're sweet." I almost managed to squeal. I am not good at pleasing people. "I know," she replied. I took a giant bite of my food, and she gave me the tyrant look, and I couldn't help chuckling. "I'm going to be late today. I have a meeting. Take care of you, okay?" she said suddenly.
"Understood, ma'am."
"Okay, sweetie. Goodbye."
"Bye, Mom."
My mom took her bag and walked towards the door; I could hear the noise of her heels clicking against the floor receding. The door opens and then closes.
I'm all alone now. All on my own. This is my own fucking territory now. And I fucking love it.
No one knows, but I'm one of those spoiled, rich kids, and I don't dare to deny it.
