Jeanette, a recently heartbroken entrepreneur meets famous English billionaire Daniel Hearst. Together, they ignite a fiery love affair built in power, ambition and passion.
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In the heels of a dead-end relationship, Jeanette meets Daniel - a pow...
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Butter, milk, bread, broccoli what else do I need?
In my twenty-five years of living, I never thought grocery shopping would be such a great therapy session. My basket is half full, my bank account reaching its limit, I think a ladies night out is overrated. Granted, I didn't have wedding bells hanging over my head back then. I'm pretty sure that every single day I had spent avoiding Leo, he had noticed it and yet I can't come up with a good way to end it.
I grabbed two large bottles of water from the last aisle and headed out. While paying, I noticed this old couple. They looked like they were arguing. The man held a loaf of bread while the wife stocked all their food into their bags. I can tell she was complaining about something but by the time I had gotten my receipt, his hand was in hers and they were okay. What must they have been through to be able to stay that long with each other? How many arguments it must have taken to be numb to each others' stubbornness. But then again, who am I to talk to when I grew up with parents where one is more powerful than the other? If anything, I don't even know anything about that type of love. After all, nobody cared enough to explain it to me.
Outside, the sun is up high and yet not bright enough to peek through the darkening clouds. The great British weather never seemed so great anyway. It's contentious to assume that the next winter or summer will be better when sometimes you can't even tell which is which. However, from the cold afternoon breeze to the tawny leaves that crinkled on every step as I got to my car, it's safe to say that it is indeed the tail-end of fall. This means more holidays are in order. Christmas and New Year's are always the most dreadful—especially after the great family rift.
Bzzt bzzt bzzt
I picked my pocket for my phone as I slid the groceries in the back....and speaking of dreadful...
"Hey, Dad, what's up?" I answered, getting into my car and into the trenches.
"Anak*, your cousins and aunts have been trying to reach you now for weeks. You don't answer. What's going on?" His muted line gargled and I scoffed.
"You know exactly why I haven't answered their calls," I say, feeling enough of my blood boiling through my veins to start a fight.
"I know but you have to respect—"
"Dad, look, I love you but if you're just gonna defend mom then I don't want to hear it," I say with barbed wires in my throat scratching at every spiteful word I spit.
"We didn't raise you to talk like this Jeanette—"
"Yeah well, you know what, you didn't raise me as a daughter either. You raised me to be a trophy, something to show off to your neighbours just so you can feel better. And by the way, has it ever occurred to you that my own mother is suing me?" I almost yelled, my hand gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles ran cold.
