𝙒𝙤𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙛 (𝙂𝙭𝙂)

2. Flight

GANGA'S POV

"NOOOOO, I CAN'T LIE!" I shouted as my sister ran behind me, frustrated with the tantrum.

"YOU CAN, JUST THIS ONCE!" She shouted as I turned around, walking furiously towards my older sister.

"Didi, you do understand that I would be thrown out if they found out that I was lying, right?" I said, crossing my arm as the older one touched her temple in anger.

"Then tell dad that you won't go to Canada."

"Oh, keep dreaming!"

"THEN YOU HAVE TO FUCKING LIE YOU MORON!" shouted the older woman, almost raising her hand as if she would choke me before she grabbed her hair in frustration.

"WHY? WHY DO YOU WANT ME TO LIE? Wasn't it YOU WHO WANTED ME TO BE FUCKING MATURE?" I asked.

"Did you just say fuck?" the older one asked, pausing suddenly.

"I'll tell dad-"

"Go die!"

"DAD TOLD THEM YOU HAVE FIVE YEARS OF KITCHEN WORKING EXPERIENCE!"

I raised my gaze slowly, my jaw dropping as my eyes almost gawked out.

"What did you say?"

"Dad told them that you have five years of experience working in the kitchen," she mumbled as my jaw almost dislocated.

"Why, why would he do that?" I cried out as I dropped on my knees, grabbing a fistful of hair.

"According to him, you take breaks in between to make the weird dishes is basically the same thing as working in a kitchen," she said, a sigh escaping her lips as I looked at her.

"But I really want to go there," I said, tears almost filling in.

"I am done with you; do what you want; don't come to me crying about how it's hard working in a kitchen," she fumed as I looked down, still sitting on my squat.

"And don't expect that you can just call dad and expect him to always help you, like that time in culinary school where you called him because you wouldn't touch raw meat," she reminded me as I shot up.

"Because that was my first time, and that meat looked weird," I whined as she rolled her eyes.

"I don't care if you think you can manage; go; who am I to stop you?" She said this, turning back as she walked towards the door.

"Didiiiiii, this is emotional blackmailing," I cried out, but she was already out of the place.

I sighed, walking towards my room with slouched shoulders, wondering if I should go or not.

Will I regret it?

It's confusing; I want to go there, as I had already made up my mind and told every single one of my friends that I would leave.

Yeah, I should boast about it, but I couldn't help it. Now I can't back off. I have to go there.

Plus, I was the best student in my class. Even my mentor for my PhD said I'm amazing.

And it's not like I never worked in a kitchen; I did. Sometimes, I would be the assistant to the head chef at some of my relative's weddings. And also my cousins birthday parties.

So, I definitely know my way around the kitchen.

That's it; I can and I will move; no one can stop me!

1 week before going to Canada.

I was sitting on the couch, wearing my homemade face mask, when I saw Mom come towards me. She sat beside me and asked,