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We would be living with Aristocrats

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We would be living with Aristocrats.

How on Earth did Mum think that was a good idea? How did she find it suitable to mix oil and water together and watch it never work? Those thoughts couldn’t leave my head ever since she delivered the crazy news. I wasn’t sure how much better our finances would get at the expense of our mental health.

I flinched as the customer in front of me repeated his request to me.

“That’s one regular burger meal, zero coke, and extra sauce. Takeaway, right?” I asked behind the cashier counter. The customer nodded then I handed her the receipt with a polite smile. “Wait for your order on the side here, please.”

The back of my hand absentmindedly came up to wipe my forehead after the end of my day and finally taking the last order. Restaurants sounded like comfortable places to some, but to me, they were where I got frustrated the most with people who thought we served at a high-end French cuisine restaurant.

This is just a knock-off of McDonald’s, I thought about my new workplace.

I had just taken that job after moving to the city. My mother got a new job in a wealthy household, and so we moved for it. Although it felt like picking a flower from its roots, I left my friends and old job behind in hopes we’d have a better life as Mum promised.

I had mixed feelings about that new job. While the salary was higher, and mum was fairly happy about all the benefits that came with serving for a wealthy family, I felt uneasy about the inevitable class gap. The last thing we needed was to feel poorer than we already were.

While walking to the bus stop, my phone rang in my pocket. With a heavy sigh, I picked up, knowing very well it was my excited mum.

“Mel, the pickups are here. Our belongings arrived. Come home soon!” I could hear the cheer in Mum’s voice.

Home? Already?

I ran my hands through my long hair. “Hmmm, understood,” I mumbled, getting on the bus. “Make sure to send me the location of that so-called mansion then. Can’t wait to arrive, ha," I snickered.

I was sure Mum was frowning. “Mel, please. If you aren’t happy with this, then let me be.”

“Sorry, I’m not happy with living in a place where I’ll be labelled ‘the maid’s daughter’, Mum. Sounds reasonable to me.”

The line went silent, and I regretted my words. I didn’t say them out of any spite or such; Mum merely needed to wake up from dreamland. We weren’t moving out to a home but to a house where we would be employees.

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