Between Us

Chapter 8 : Bandages and Bonds

Charlotte's pov

Inside, I found myself with Mew, who was clearly still fuming. "I don't understand why your family hired someone like her," he spat, his voice dripping with disdain. "She's a worthless piece of shit, arrogant, and doesn't even know how to do her job properly. Who does she think she is?"

I sighed, feeling a headache coming on. "It was just a small accident, Mew," I said, trying to keep my voice calm. "You're taking it too far with your words. And for the record, you don't get to decide who works for my family."

Mew looked taken aback for a moment, then narrowed his eyes. "I'm just saying, she doesn't belong here."

I shook my head, feeling frustration build up. "Well, it's not your decision to make. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't insult the people who work for us."

I could see the argument wasn't getting through to him, but I had said my piece. I wasn't about to let anyone belittle Engfa, even if she could be insufferable at times.

Mew's eyes flashed with anger. "Did you hear how she spoke to me earlier? That kind of disrespect is completely unacceptable, Charlotte."

I sighed, trying to remain patient. "Mew, you're overreacting. It was just a bit of spilled champagne. There's no need to make such a big deal out of it."

"Overreacting?" he echoed, incredulous. "She embarrassed me in front of everyone. She needs to learn her place."

"She spilled some champagne. It happens. And honestly, your reaction was out of proportion. It's not worth all this drama," I replied, feeling my patience wear thin.

He shook his head, still clearly upset. "You're just going to let her get away with it?"

"I'm not letting her 'get away' with anything. She made a mistake, she apologized. It's done. You need to stop blowing this out of proportion."

"I need to get back to studying, Mew. I still have a lot to do," I said, feeling a headache forming at my temples.

Mew stood up, a resigned look on his face. "Alright, Charlotte. Take care." He walked towards the entrance, and I followed him. At the door, he turned and pulled me into a hug. I stood still, not returning the embrace, feeling drained by his presence but forcing a strained smile. He finally let go and walked out, and I closed the door behind him with a sigh of relief.

I headed to my room and stood at the doorway, surveying the chaos. Papers were strewn all over my desk, and colorful post-it notes covered the wall above it. The sheer amount of work was overwhelming. Tomorrow I had an exam in accounting, my least favorite subject. Numbers, graphs, and balance sheets all blurred together in my mind, a confusing and frustrating mess. I much preferred the world of art-drawing, painting, and losing myself in the tranquility of museums.

One of my biggest dreams was to visit the Louvre in Paris, to stand in front of the masterpieces I had only seen in books and online. But I knew my father would never approve. He had always been dismissive of anything that didn't align with his vision of a "practical" career. No one knew about my passion for art; it was a secret I kept close, a small spark of rebellion against the rigid expectations placed upon me.

I rubbed my temples, trying to ease the tension. The thought of tomorrow's exam loomed over me like a dark cloud. Accounting was a world where I felt lost, but I had no choice but to navigate it. Taking a deep breath, I sat down at my desk and began sifting through the papers, forcing myself to focus.

Despite my efforts, my mind kept drifting back to the Louvre, to the dream of wandering its vast halls and soaking in the beauty and history of each piece of art. Maybe one day, I thought. For now, I had to get through this exam, even if it meant sacrificing a part of myself in the process.