+TYPED OUT-

++SPOILER-

Accustomed to having many eyes upon him, Kenneth felt no pressure as he explained, "Actually, they're entertaining, and they cater to what readers expect."

"Yes, but you can't compare them with high-culture literary fiction. Writers like her are taking up space writers like you deserve," Brigitte retorted.

Kenneth put down his fork. "Brigitte, I would appreciate it if you stopped there."

"I know you hate hearing this, Kenneth, but your book is a masterpiece, and writers like her are clogging the route of real literature."

The room went quiet. All knew Brigitte touched on a sensitive subject that still blistered Kenneth.

It took Monaday a few seconds to realize that Kenneth had written a fiction novel. To be sure, she asked, "Kenneth, did you write a novel?"

Monday ignored Brigitte. The agent's statement was like a disc that played in repeat for Monday. It was as though someone expected Wagner or Mozart to top the Billboard hundred in 2021 on the hip-hop chart. It made no sense for Monday, who believed there needed to be a little of something different for everyone.

"Yes, I wrote one. A very long time ago, and trust me, it isn't as good as Brigitte says."

"Yes, I remember," Rendall said, "What was it called again? De Las Pampas."

"What was it about?" Monday asked naively.

Lisbeth looked at her husband. They had to do something before things came to worse.

"Monday, do you mind giving me a hand in the kitchen, please?

"Oh, of course," Monday got up. She would have wished to hear Kenneth's answer, but the man got up and went straight to the bathroom.

"Kenneth?"

He continued to walk away without turning back.

"Leave him, Monday. He needs a moment alone," Lisbeth said.

"Okay," Monday replied and followed Lizbeth. Something told her it was the wiser choice.

"Well, thank you, Brigitte. One can always count on you to play the bitch," Alice threw once Monday left the room. "Can't you just let the man be happy? You had to bring one of your toxic traits out."

"I beg your pardon," Brigitte yelled.

"You heard me right; we all know how you've been boiling with jealousy ever since you heard Kenneth was with someone."

"Alice, youㅡ."

"I what? You can't stand to see people happy. You weren't glad when Matthew and I got together. Why are you so mean?"

"You took the words right out of my mouth," Matthew said, sipping his coffee.

Brigitte scrutinized everyone in the room with her stern, boiled glare, "You are all such hypocrites. All of you don't think less about her. You won't make me believe that you find the two suited. He's definitely going through a phase. She's younger. Kenneth will soon return to reality once he's screwed her right, left and center."

"Matthew, deal with her. I just can't," Alice said, getting up.

In the meantime, Kenneth rinsed his face. Not many things ticked him off in life, but the things that did; made him want to commit murder. Brigitte pressed every button that triggered Kenneth, first by attacking Monday, secondly by trying to make him speak against her, and thirdly by bringing up something that profoundly wounded him.

Kenneth looked at himself in the mirror, "No one will ever love you like I do. Love is a chimera one spends their life seeking only to die alone."