Arguments with Parents.

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This chapter is dedicated to Moyinoluwa Obalana, my first reader.

Home.

That one word sounded like death to Ideraoluwa Oluwashindara Kasimawo- or more preferably ID.
Death to her frivolous, expensive, and demanding lifestyle and, of course, her.
"I'm not fucking going to that god-forsaken, mother-effing country." Idera stated stubbornly crossing her slim legs that she had just gotten waxed for nine hundred dollars-an issue that was still pending and most likely one of the reasons they were having this " talk ".

"Idera.......",Her mother warned, rubbing her temples.
" It's ID, mom. Get with the programme." She corrected, rolling her mascara hooded eyes.
"That's the problem, honey. We're tired of getting with that stupid programme of yours. You have no respect whatsoever, and your mom and I have decided......"
"Decided? " She cuts in, " how wonderful! " There was sacarsm in her voice, and her parents sighed in unison.
" You didn't even think it right to check with me first," she continued, " like, how in hell can you make a decision concerning me without my consent?" She yelled as she stood from the blue, velvet, buttery couch. " I've lived my entire life in LA, and now you just ' decided ' I leave for.......that country? "

Nigeria was that country. Idera had never been to Nigeria before, despite her parents' countless visits to check check their successful businesses; the Idera Hotel suites and Comfort zone, Idera Fashion home, and Idera Pharmaceuticals.

"Yes, "Her mother declared, trying to stare her down, which was a hard task.
Idera was a slim, tall girl-almost as tall as her dad, something she very much prided in.
She had long dark, natural hair, which she braided or sometimes gell back beautifully, an oval face which boasted of thick and well shaped eyebrows, huge black eyes, and long, dark lashes. Her nose was small and pointed-something most actors and actresses pay millions for, and her lips were perfect. Idera was very beautiful.

"Fine,"came the single word reply from ID as she picked her prada bag, adjusted her white cropped top, which she wore over blue jeans with matching sneakers and sashayed out of the room.
"I'm out. " she called after herself while her parents looked on in shock.
Of course, not at the way she walked out on them, that happened virtually every day, but at her quick acceptance of what they discussed.
They considered it a miracle - only if they knew!


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