Teach Me - Jenlisa G!P

CHAPTER 3 - School Project

I'm jolted awake by the house butler, Henry, banging on my bedroom door.

"Miss Kim, it's time to wake up if you want to be on time for school," he announces, his voice echoing through the room.

"Not now," I groan, rubbing my dry eyes. While I appreciate Henry's dedication to waking me up every morning, today, I can't bring myself to care about going to uni.

The events of yesterday weigh heavy on my mind. My grandmother's attempt to ruin my life has left me feeling more lonely than ever before.

I sluggishly stretch and roll out of bed, making my way to the mirror. As I catch my reflection, I see my swollen, puffy red eyes, tear-stained cheeks, and wild bedhead.

Last night was rough. After crying out all the tears from my body, I woke up to the sound of my mother knocking on my door at 3 am. Her pleas and cries to let her in pulled at my heartstrings, but I couldn't forgive her that easily. So, I ended up staying awake all night.

I quickly run a brush through my hair, not wanting my family to see anything less than the perfect Jennie. Undressing, I step into the shower, allowing the warm water to wash away yesterday's events.

Grabbing my favourite pomegranate and mixed spice shower gel, I lather it onto my loofah, trying to distract myself from my thoughts. The gentle exfoliation provides a soothing relief.As I shampoo my hair, my mind drifts back to the encounter with Lisa yesterday. She's different, intriguing in a way I can't quite put my finger on. Maybe it's because she defies my expectations; she's the first and will be the last person to call me a bitch to my face.

Exiting the shower, I walk into my walk-in closet, stocked with the latest bags, shoes, and jewellery, to pick out an outfit for school. Rummaging through my closet, I search for something that will make me feel powerful.

I settle on an outfit that I would never usually wear-something a bit more revealing, a bit more daring. After all, I attend a fashion school; why should I conform to anyone's standards but my own?

A mischievous smirk plays at the corners of my lips as I imagine the scandalized expression on my grandmother's face if she were to see me in this outfit. Who cares? Maybe if I push her hard enough, she'll disown me, and then I'll finally be free to do whatever the hell I want.

With that rebellious thought, I slip into my chosen outfit and fix my makeup.

Stepping out of my bedroom, I'm greeted by the long hallway where the bright morning sun pierces through the windows, hitting me square in the eyes.

"What a great start to the day," I mutter under my breath, clenching my face in pain.

Arriving at the centre island in my kitchen, the enticing aroma of pancakes and roasted duck with maple syrup fills the air. It's my favourite breakfast, a clear attempt by my grandmother to distract me from the events of yesterday. But as I try to swallow each bite, my throat stings from all the crying.