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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I pulled up my sheets more closely to me, curling deeper into my soft heavenly mattress. Aromatic; the smell of lettuce and few other vegetables invaded my nostrils disturbing my very precious sleep. Cringing lightly I pulled my sheets to my nose trying to stop the assault of these vegetable smells and it suddenly felt colder as my bare legs were left without any shield to resist against the invincible cold. The smell of vegetables seemed to still make its way to my nose, momentarily making my fading head realize something important.
Am I stuck in a Cold Storage? Pushing my sheets away I plunged my feet to the ground, in the process hitting something with my left hand which awarded my giant room a terrible clanking sound.
"What do you think you are doing?" Omma, being the groggy mother she is, shouted, watching the vegetable soup making its channel of streams on the silver floor. Thank god I wasn't in the main hall because it has wooden tile and this would have turned out to be my last morning ever waking up.
Clutching my messed up hair tightly I walked up to Omma trying to give her a good morning hug, which she tells is a lady's manners to do. Scrunching her buttoned nose she pushed me aside shoving me into my dearest heaven; Yup, my beautiful washroom.
It is a place where I can relax and concentrate thinking only about me, solely me.
"Hug me once you are clean and get going before your father holds you hostage." Omma shouted over from the room after ordering somebody to come and clean the river of soup still flowing on the floor of my room.
I still can't understand why did Omma even bother coming three floors up with a bowl of what - a vegetable soup!
After the semester break, all this summer I had done something productive is help Daddy dearest, my only father, in his accounting section and in return he helped me with my developing startup of public relations label named Fifeteen.
University started last week but I had attended a handful of days, which I can easily count on the fingers of just one hand and it was all because Dad was so obsessed with my accounting skills, and according to him completing his accounts work are more important than my Uni. Business minded.
So, yesterday Omma hatched this great plan to sneak me out before Dad returns back from his morning workout session; yes, my dad was one of those businessman who are freaking handsome and at this age of fifty also he could walk in as one of the models of any famous magazine, obviously, with a salt pepper look.
Finishing up my toiletries in a flash I dressed up in a grey hooded jacket pairing it with black jeans and finally matching them with my favorite white toms. Descending down the set of three staircases I tied my hair into a low ponytail. The kitchen smelled Bacon and Scrambled eggs. A morning filled with egg is just heaven. Tessa, our cook, she smiled at me while setting up my breakfast. Throwing all of my table manners out of the bag I started gobbling my food like a starving beggar. Don't blame me. I am in short of time because Daddy dearest will be back within five minutes or something is what Tessa informed.
