Loving This Bitch

CHAPTER 2

"Nionahlie, we need to talk" sabi ni mommy matapos ang tatlong katok sa pintuan ng kwarto ko.

"Come in" I said at itinigil ang pagkalikot sa laptop. Pumasok si mommy at umupo sa kama ko. Umayos naman ako ng upo at hinarap siya. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I didn't like your behavior the other day," she began, raising an eyebrow at me.

"That was ages ago, and now you decide to bring it up?"

"Nionahlie!" Mom scolded. "You know how busy I am with work and you understand that, right?" she said sharply.

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, right. I know you're always busy with your work, and I understand that, so I'm wondering why you're here. Shouldn't you be designing gowns?" I asked, lacking enthusiasm.

"I do have work, but I prioritized you now because I want to talk to you," she replied.

"Thanks for sparing me your time, Mommy. But I don't need your time. There are projects that need to be done now," I said, signaling for her to leave. We weren't close enough for mother-daughter talks.

"I'm here to discuss your behavior the other day..." she glanced at my closed laptop, "...and I know you're not working on any projects right now," she said.

I tsked, which only worsened her look towards me.

She was only here to reprimand me because my behavior might affect her business dealings. That's just how she operates. She only talks to me or approaches me when she needs something from me, or when I've done something she doesn't like that could affect her standing in the industry.

"Okay, I know my behavior the other day was wrong. Don't worry, it won't happen again," I said just to reassure her.

"That's not what I want to hear. Why did you act that way? I didn't teach you to behave like that," she said, looking me in the eye.

"When did you ever teach me?" I retorted.

Ever since I was a child, all she did was work and provide for my luxuries. As I grew older, I began to understand her actions more, but at the same time, I started to distance myself from her.

"Don't talk back to me like that, Nionahlie!" Her voice rose slightly, which didn't surprise me. I just shrugged.

"Okay, I won't respond like that again." I think this was the first time we had spoken like this after three weeks. I could count on one hand the number of times she had entered my room in the past month.

She took a deep breath. "Niona, I'm doing all of this for us—"

"I know, Mom," I cut her off. When I was younger, I admired her work because she was truly talented at designing. But that admiration slowly faded because she spent more time working than she did with me.

"I'm getting married to further our company," she explained. "Don't give me that attitude because I didn't like your behavior these past few days, Nionahlie. You even did something foolish at school."

I sighed deeply this time.

"Yeah, sure. Get married if you want to. As if I can stop you, right?"

She didn't even ask me if I wanted her to get married or if I wanted a father figure. But then I wondered, why would she ask me? I'm just a model for her clothes.

"Be ready for a family dinner next week," she said, and then she left the room without another word. I wanted to laugh at myself. Family dinner? It sounded so absurd.

I'm tired of hearing the same old refrain: that I'm as beautiful as my mother, as intelligent as my mother, that I have the same personality as my mother. I'm also tired of being known only as her daughter, as if I'm famous simply because of her.