Nineteen-year-old Vhrea doesn't want to have attached attributes to her name of being called the descendant princess of a rich Jewelers family, but life doesn't give a choice of where we are to be born and what will be our surname. As one of the onl...
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H A P P Y R E A D I N G💜
At first when I opened my cupboard my nose wrinkled due to the sudden assault of nylon and polystyrene, or whatever newly bought clothes could possibly smell. Watching all the vibrantly shining and dazzling super branded clothes instead of finding old baggy ones. I for an accidental moment thought maybe I had opened Omma's cupboard but then seeing a red colored knee length one piece which could put the Kittens brand to shame, it was confirmed that there has been no mistaking.
Obviously dumbo! You are in your safe room, this is your stubbornly violet clothes storage area.
Shutting the violet doors close I checked my other drawers for any traces of my lovely missing clothes. Every rack was clean swiped like Lizol killing ninety percent of germs on floor.
See, I still have a one percent chance of finding my sensitively decent clothes. Maybe I should ask Tessa.
"Tessa! Tess Hon! Tessa Berry! Straw Tessa!"
I used my quick nicknaming ability in full potential and called her with all the sweet names I could conjure, still double checking the racks in my bathroom.
"Yes, Young lady."
Tessa bowed as soon as she appeared on the door breathing heavily. Young Lady – it seems that Tessa's ancestors were somehow related to the British colonel Sir Arthur, always accustomed to call out higher people with all respect. But the bow was so orthodox, like really.
Not having the time to pull her out from medieval period and teach modern life rules I reminded myself to be patient because it seems sometimes I fail to remember I live in the third floor.
"Where are my clothes?"
For a moment Tessa looked hesitant as if saying anything would mean betraying another important member of this home. Whom could she be so scared of losing her loyalty? Maybe Daddy dearest is involved in this abduction case of my basic living necessity-clothes.
"Young Master did the redo of your wardrobe this afternoon."
See like I said – wait she said master with young! That son of a bitch.
Then you are daughter of that witch!
"Any idea of where it is taken to?" I asked, expectedly.
Tessa looked clueless, which again made me curse myself for being such a take-Tessa-for-granted fan. How could I forget that Tessa isn't on any multipurpose position in our family, she is our brilliant cook. How will she know about the whereabouts of the mischief of my bloody twin?
Dismissing Tessa I sulked on my couch, dejected that there was no one percent chance also. I couldn't spend money buying some new clothes now because I am practically saving every dime to make two ends meet, that is saving for hiring my big photographer.
