Golden Melody (Editing)

Chapter 75

Chapter 75: Cereal Before Calculus, Please

Miexha's Point of View

The first thing I heard was the gentle violence of my alarm clock at 8:30 a.m.

"Mmngh... shhh," I mumbled into my pillow.
"Please stop... It's Saturday... I swear I'll be productive in thirty minutes..."

The alarm did not care.

Technology can be very heartless sometimes.

I turned it off, hoping it might feel guilty if I ignored it long enough.

Then something blinked awake inside my sleepy brain.

Weekend.

Saturday.

Tutoring.

Oh no.

TUTORING.

I sat up way too fast.

"Ah—whoa," I gasped, clutching my temple. The room tilted. Or maybe I tilted. One of us was definitely guilty, and both of us were dizzy.

Still, I forced myself to stand.

Slowly.

Carefully.

Very dramatically.

Papa Ashel had handpicked this tutor himself. Which meant if I'm late, it wouldn't just be disappointing.

It would be a national scandal.

A diplomatic offense.

I stumbled to the bathroom, brushed my teeth in sleepy circles, flushed, and splashed cold water on my face like the heroine of a dramatic movie trying to reset her entire life.

It worked a little.

By 9:25, I was dressed in my soft white strap dress scattered with tiny pink flowers— "I'm trying, but also emotionally delicate" outfit.

I made my bed too, smoothing the sheets like I was tucking in my anxiety.

Then I checked the clock.

9:50.

How?!

How did the time sprint?

My stomach let out a soft whimper. No—more like a quiet cry for help.

I hadn't eaten.

And as if the universe wanted to add one final violin note to my melodrama—

Knock knock.

"Miss Miexha," a maid said gently through the door.
"Your tutor has arrived."

I froze.

First thought: I'm going to faint.

Second thought: Can I faint elegantly?

Third thought: No. Cereal first. Then I can face calculus and the human embodiment of pressure.

I padded to the door and whispered through it.

"Please tell the tutor I'll be down in a minute. Just a minute. Also... is there cereal? And milk? I swear I'll eat fast."

The maid chuckled softly. "We'll prepare some right away."

I shut the door, pressed both hands to my chest, and whispered like a prayer:

"Cereal before calculus... cereal before calculus..."

Because no girl should meet her mysterious, possibly terrifying, possibly charming, presidentially appointed tutor on an empty stomach.