Why hello there. Let's ignore the fact that I am a wretched, god forsaken author for not updating this story for two months, and move on to the more important bits, shall we? :)
This chapter is short. Very, very short. And the ending; please don't kill me. But I figured I owed it to you guys to update, and I honestly tried my best. Please remember that what we write on Wattpad is a first draft, and is most of the time nowhere near what it'd look like once we edit it. I do want to revise this book(if i ever complete it, hah) once it's done.
Though I hope it satisfies you guys for now. We recently hit 16k reads, and I, a thousand followers! Let me just say, THAT'S HUGE. INSANE. WOWZA. SHEBANG!!!! Thank you so so much for the support, the amazing comments and lovely messages. Hundreds and trillions and billions koala hugs for you <33
ps. You have to skim through the first chapter. Like, you HAVE to. I added in a little tiny bit that's super important for this chapter.
I hope you like it.
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"For
the love of money is
a root
of all kinds
of evils."
1 TIMOTHY 6:10
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THE PLACE IS GREAT AS IT WAS BEFORE.
Ceiling to floor windows span across a wall, with the view of a thousand city lights twinkling in the deep blue night behind the glass. Though it's on the top level of a hotel, casual, soft chatter and occasional laughter of the people weave its way through the air, mingling with the restaurant's music, holding no stiff pride. In the centre of the room is a bar that blooms out of the ground like a glowing flower of honey, lighting up the entire place and the bottles of alcohol it holds, with two televisions quietly buzzing the nights soccer game.
These past few weeks have passed in a blur, as if a whole block of time was erased from my memory. College applications have been a dread and by the time I'm home at the end of the day, I'm too tired to do anything but knock out in my bed. And that's why my father has taken me out to my favourite place to eat, Dario's, for a breath of fresh air, out of the stuffy mess my head has been in at home. With our tight schedules, we haven't been able to come here in weeks, compared to when we used to come every Saturday for some family time.
I'm having pizza, the best of it's kind — thin, toasted crust of wood-fired baked dough with hunks of melted mozzarella sunk into its sweet tomato base, topped with vibrant green basil leaves. Across me sits my father, his head low and his chin planted on his intertwined fingers with a warm smile on his face.
"Aren't you eating?" I ask, looking at the empty white tablecloth in front of him.
He shakes his head. "No, I'm not hungry. Thanks, baby."
My brows furrow. While the fact that we've been struggling financially hasn't gone unnoticed by me, I didn't think it came to the point where only one of us could have a good meal, even on a whim. In the past two months, he's been forced to take a huge leap of faith to start up his own law firm with his good friend, Jerell Huff, after being sacked from the same firm for having walked into court a little buzzed. It was my mother's death anniversary that day.
