Rukky
"What is this? What happened to your face?" Mom's sharp voice pierced through the air the moment I stepped into the kitchen.
Her eyes widened in shock, and her wet hands, still covered in soap suds from the dishes, trembled slightly.
I scoffed loudly, my lips curling in irritation. "That's because Anna and I got into a fight," I replied through gritted teeth, wincing as the pain from my broken nose flared up.
The throbbing ache was unbearable. Damn it! Anna really did a number on me.
Mom's gasp was sharp and quick.
"What? That has never happened before! What on earth caused the fight?" She abandoned the sink, quickly turning on the gas to heat some water.
Her hands moved fast, but her eyes kept darting back to my bruised face, filled with both concern and disbelief.
I narrowed my eyes at her, my lips tightening into a sneer.
"You and Dad caused this," I snapped coldly.
"If you had given me to that rich dude, we would be swimming in money by now. Or do you think Mia would remember you after everything you did to her?" My voice was laced with bitter sarcasm, and I folded my arms tightly across my chest, feeling the sting of betrayal that had been eating me alive.
Mom's face darkened, her jaw tightening as her eyes flashed.
"She won't dare," she said firmly, her voice cold and clipped. But then her gaze softened into confusion.
"Rukky, you still haven't told me what actually caused the fight. Your nose is bleeding profusely. I don't believe that skinny girl could have done that to you," she added, her disbelief thick in her tone.
I rolled my eyes angrily and ignored her question. Anna was stronger than she looked.
Besides, the fight wasn't just about fists—it was about everything boiling beneath the surface.
"Where's Dad?" I asked sharply, eager to change the topic. I didn't want to revisit the messy details with Anna.
Mom's hands, now wiping themselves on her apron, stilled for a second.
"You know he just found another job after his boss fired him," she muttered.
She quickly turned to pour the steaming water into a bowl and grabbed a clean hand towel.
"Sit on the stool. Let me help you lessen the pain," she ordered, her voice gentle but firm.
"You'll get some medicine once your dad returns."
With a huff, I dropped onto the rickety stool near the counter. Mom dipped the towel into the hot water, wrung it, and began dabbing at my swollen face.
I hissed from the sting, but she kept going, her lips pressed in a thin line as she tended to my wound.
—
When she was done, I touched my bandaged nose gingerly, wincing from the soreness.
"What did you prepare?" I asked, my voice curt. Hunger gnawed at my insides, and my mood was souring by the second.
Mom's shoulders sagged slightly, and she shook her head.
"There's nothing for now," she said in a low voice.
"I haven't been able to pick up my customers' clothes for dry cleaning. I'm broke, Rukky. There's not a dime in the house," she confessed, her voice heavy with exhaustion and worry.
My face twisted in frustration. "Don't you dare say that," I snapped.
"I'm famished, and I need to fill my stomach to the brim! It's not my fault you couldn't get those clothes." My arms crossed under my chest, my fingers digging into my sides.
"All of this is exactly why I never supported you and Dad giving Mia away. If she were here, you wouldn't have to worry about getting those clothes." My words were cold and sharp, dripping with resentment.
Mom's head snapped up, her eyes blazing. "Don't you ever say that in front of your father," she warned, her voice low and dangerous.
"We gave Mia away on purpose," she added, her expression unreadable, but I caught the flicker of something—regret? Pain?
I scoffed bitterly, my lips curling. "Whatever," I muttered.
Mom straightened up and narrowed her eyes at me.
"Go and help me get the clothes from the customers so we can prepare something to eat," she ordered suddenly, her tone expectant.
My eyes flared in disbelief. "What? I'm not doing that!" I yelled.
"And I need my meal served!" With that, I spun on my heel and stormed off, my feet pounding against the wooden floor.
Slamming the bedroom door behind me, I threw myself onto my bed, face-first into the pillow.
Anger boiled hot in my veins.
She had promised me—sworn, even—that she would always handle the customers herself.
She couldn't possibly expect me to walk around the streets, carrying a plastic bag, knocking on doors like some errand girl.
Never!
Olivia Jordan
Location: Mexico City
"Aren't we done yet?" I groaned, my voice laced with frustration.
My entire body ached from standing and posing for hours. "We've been taking different shots for over four hours!"
My manager, Zoe, glanced up from her clipboard with an apologetic smile.
"Just one last pose, Olivia," she coaxed. "We're almost there."
I sighed heavily, shifting my weight to one hip. "You know I don't want to miss my flight back to L.A.," I reminded her.
"I've missed Bryan so much. I can't believe I've been away from him for two whole months." My voice softened, a pang of longing tightening my chest.
Zoe's sharp eyes flicked up from her notes, and she arched a brow.
"The same Bryan who hasn't been picking up your calls?" she asked pointedly.
"The same Bryan who went to the extreme lengths of switching off his phone?" Her voice carried a taunting edge.
I shot her a quick glare. "Zoe," I warned, my tone defensive.
Zoe was more than just my manager; she was my best friend.
And like any best friend, she was brutally honest—especially about my relationship with Bryan.
She never supported it, claiming that I was chasing after him more than he was chasing me.
I rubbed my temples and sighed. "I don't believe Bryan switched off his phone on purpose," I said firmly, more to convince myself than her.
"There has to be a reason. And when I get back to L.A., I'll find out."
Zoe shook her head slowly, a pitying look in her eyes.
"I just don't want you hurt, Liv," she said softly, her voice losing its teasing edge.
She stepped behind me, helping me zip up the sheer black gown for the final shot. The fabric clung to my curves, shimmering under the studio lights.
Her hands rested briefly on my shoulders.
"You know I'll always support you, no matter what," she said, her voice gentle and sincere.
I felt a small smile tug at my lips. "I know, Zoe. Thanks."
With that, she tapped my back lightly and strolled out of the room, leaving me to follow.
My heels clicked against the polished floor as I made my way to the set for the final shot of the day.