For both the families, It was just a business deal. A partnership, that would ensure their 'Billionaire' titles. And to top it all off, they even agreed to lump their children's life, by marrying them.
The future couple had a plan of their own. A co...
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The cringeworthy tune of my alarm jolted me out of my deep slumber. I rolled to my side to turn it off, knocking it off the bedside table in the process. Waking up at 4 AM every day has never been a big deal for me. I am one of the fortunate people who are doing the work they are passionate about and that simple reason alone washes off all the sleep lingering around me. But the stress from the past few days has taken a toll on me. I clambered to my feet and turn on the music and do my morning rituals while humming to the tunes.
I stand in front of the mirror to look presentable as the owner and chef of my cafe. I picked a pink maxi dress from one of the many maxi dresses I own in hopes of at least looking better, even though I'm not feeling it. I pull my hair in a bun, letting two face-framing tendrils loose and tie a pink and white bandanna on my head, completing the baker beauty look. Satisfied with my appearance, I stretch my lips to smile but the sadness looming over me screamed it was fake and every customer today will end up noticing it.
I click the lock in its place by memory. It's really dark outside as the lamppost on the other side of the road has completely shut off after blinking irritatedly for the past two weeks, as though it is indicating the arrival of extraterrestrial beings. The area I live in isn't the fanciest part of Brooklyn, but I have heard from many people that my cafe is the only beautiful thing in the two-mile radius. I hop on my commute to work, a U-shaped iron staircase that leads me downstairs to my cafe. The small block I own has a cafe downstairs and the floor above it is my home.
My hand freezes at the doorknob of the backdoor of the cafe that opens to the kitchen as Jennifer's irritated voice carries out. She is yelling at our help staff, Clint. My best friend and my future business partner, Jennifer Shaw, is as always 10 minutes early to beat me to be the first one here just so she could bully him. Clint is a rugby player still in high school. He is supposed to work part-time in the morning to help us with the heavy work so Jenny and I don't hurt our delicate wrists. We literally pay him with food for his work and a little money sometimes. At the end of the year, he will be receiving an impressive recommendation for working in the hospitality business. But Jenny loves to treat him like he is our slave.
"Clint, you can go now. Or You'll be late." I say, dismissing him and saving him from Jenny's wrath. Clint bolted to the door, not wasting another minute. He is supposed to work for another hour, but I am working on spending my patience sparingly. These two alone use 20% of my daily patience every single day first thing in the morning. On usual days, Clint doesn't retaliate. But when he is in the mood, he bites back.
