Elodie Hart;
"Tasting her is like heaven. But Harlow isn't heaven. Nor is she hell; Harlow is the f*cking devil herself, with her sharp intimidation and her cruel way of things, but she tastes nothing like it. She tastes of sweetness and determinati...
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To say I'm excited for today probably sounds insane, considering I'm going back to work. But my reason for this reaction to Harlow's text last night - which told me if I wanted to and was definitely sure of it, I could go back to work the following morning - is highly understandable; to me at least.
I was so bored hauled up in my room for the past few weeks since we arrived back from Italy, all because of this stupid wound which prevented Harlow from allowing me to do mostly everything. I could barely move around on my own if she was near me. I asked her multiple times if I could go back to work, even a little, or help out in the kitchen with the girls, but her answers were not what I wanted to hear. No kind of persuasion I tried drove Harlow to budge, so I was stuck to my own company most days.
The girls were at work most days, so I was left to entertain myself for the day. I hung out with them for the short hours they had free during the week, but then it was back to lounging in my room and feeling terrible for lacking in production.
Harlow was usually busy too, apart from some odd evenings and occasional mornings. If she wasn't working - which was rare - she would see me, check up on me, and even cure my boredom some nights until I fell right asleep from exhaustion.
But I was tired of doing nothing else. All of this lying around seriously drove my motivation to drop, and I found myself lying in bed all day, sleeping instead of actually doing something beneficial.
But the moment Harlow texted me the confirmation I'd been waiting for, I set up my maid uniform in the evening neatly on my chair and immediately texted the girls.
I woke up this morning, earlier than usual, even though it killed me to get out of bed at that time after not doing it for a while, and got ready. Properly ready, unlike the days when I'd throw on a sweater and some joggers and call it a day during the past few weeks.
I brushed out my hair and tied it up into a ponytail. I put on some light makeup in the mirror, a little blush and highlighter did the trick to making me feel super confident for the day. Once I was ready, I used my last few spare minutes before heading down to the kitchens to text Harlow in my room.
I texted her a good morning message, hoping she would see it and reply quickly before I went. Along with that, I opened up the camera app and flipped the camera so it faced me. I couldn't help but admire my clean and tidy look, especially after feeling so dull the past few days. Hair done, makeup done. I don't know what it was, but just getting ready for the day, no matter what for, had always kickstarted my day with positivity. If I looked good, I felt good. I angle my phone to face me in a way where I look to my liking in the frame, and I take a couple of photos of myself.
I noticed Harlow hadn't responded yet, but I didn't let it bother me. She did mention she would be busy over the next few weeks. I texted her another message, letting her know I was going to work so I'll be busy for the next few hours, and then I sent her one of the pictures I took.
