The Playboy's Wicked Revenge (Major editing In Progress)

2. Urghh not again

Sia

I had no other option but to use the money that arrogant monster handed me, though every cell in my body recoiled at the idea. His cold emerald eyes and the way he dismissed me like I was nothing, I hated that I had to rely on him, even for a moment. But hunger and helplessness didn't care about dignity.

I promised myself I would return every dollar of it, someday.

By the time I reached home, the old clock in the hallway showed 11:00 p.m. The house was quiet, bathed in the soft golden light of a lone bulb flickering in the living room. The silence felt heavy- judging. My family is over protective and conservative, and to them, staying out this late is worrisome.

I muttered hurried explanations to my mother, avoiding her disappointed gaze, then slipped into my small, cluttered room. It was barely more than a box with peeling paint, faded posters on the wall, and a creaky wooden bed shoved into the corner. Yet, to me, it was a refuge from the world's harshness.

Taking a deep sigh, I collapsed on the mattress, exhausted. Tomorrow would be just like today. Meaningless. Empty. No interviews. No callbacks. No purpose.

Despite holding a degree in Product Design Engineering, I am unemployed. Every day is just a blur of rejection.

I often thought that if I vanished, things might get easier for my mother. Maybe my mother could finally remarry, start fresh without the baggage of a daughter who couldn't even secure a basic job. But fate had its own twisted plans.

My heart ached with all the things I couldn't say aloud. Thoughts swirled inside me like a storm. And as I lay on my bed staring at the cracked ceiling above, the weight of my own worthlessness pressing against my chest, my eyes fluttered shut and I drifted into a restless sleep.

"Sia, Get up!"

"You shouldn't sleep this late!"

Ugh. There it was again. The daily chorus.
My eyes fluttered open, and before my brain could even register where I was, the shrill voices of my mom and aunt Princia sliced through the morning air like clockwork. Same as always. Apparently, I was committing a crime by sleeping in, despite it being only 8:30 AM. But of course, they insisted it was ten.

Drama queens, both of them.

So, yeah. Good morning to me.

I groaned, dragging myself out of bed like I was carrying the weight of the entire week on my back. After brushing and the usual routine of pretending to be more awake than I felt, I stepped out into the living area, still half-asleep and very much uninterested in existing.

Breakfast? Nope. Not for me.

The idea of eating something in the morning made my stomach feel even queasier. So instead, I sank into the worn-out sofa, scrolling aimlessly through my phone, letting the screen's soft glow distract me from the chaos around the house. Until my aunt, Princia, suddenly popped in and chirped, "Let's go. We have to go shopping!"

Aunt Princia, my mother's brother's wife who lived next door is practically a ball of energy on steroids. Always buzzing from morning till night.

How a 49-year-old woman could have so much stamina was beyond me. Always cheerful. Always ready to go out.

I hated shopping. Absolutely hated it. But if I dared to say no, I knew her endless rants would follow like a shadow I couldn't shake. So with a sigh that probably echoed in five dimensions, I muttered, "Fine."

So off we went to the mall- me, Aunt Princia, and her son Kevin, who's home for vacation. My mother, as usual, didn't come. She never went anywhere except her flower shop.

I trailed behind like a ghost, uninterested in anything around me. The mannequins all looked better dressed than I'd ever be, and the clothes? Meh. Nothing caught my eye. But then again, I was picky. Picky and confused and mostly just uninterested in the whole charade.

Finally, after what felt like years of walking in circles, I turned to my aunt and said the magic words, "I'm going to the washroom." No one questions that excuse. It's the perfect escape route.

I walked away quickly, glancing back once to make sure I wasn't being followed. Just as I turned a corner, lost in my own small victory, I crashed straight into someone.

Hard.

"Owww," I groaned, rubbing my forehead as I looked up, and then everything stopped.

Emerald.
Those same piercing green eyes. The ones that is haunting me since last night.

He was standing there casually yet somehow ridiculously perfect, like the universe had decided to make someone unfairly attractive and then cursed me by crossing paths with him again.

His expression? Utter disgust.

Like I'd just crawled out of a sewer and ruined his designer shoes.

I stood frozen, gawking. Great. Voice gone. Again.

He raised one annoyingly perfect eyebrow, amused at my silence.

And God, he looked too good for reality, dark formal trousers paired with a simple white T-shirt that clung to his body like it was made for him. His sleeves were rolled just enough to show off those forearms. He was the embodiment of "too hot to handle."

Meanwhile, I stood there like a clown, baggy T-shirt, messy hair, and sneakers that had clearly lost the will to live. Kill me.

He raised an eyebrow. That subtle move snapped me right out of my daze.
Desperate to say something, I fumbled through my pockets, fingers brushing over the crumpled notes I had gathered from my measly savings- one $50, two $10s, one $20, and two $5 notes.

One hundred dollars exactly.

I pulled them out and shoved the money toward him, my voice barely more than a whisper.
"I... I'm not a beggar."

He looked puzzled at first. But then, recognition flickered in his eyes.
Bending slightly so his face was level with mine, he arched a brow, a smug smile curving on his lips. "Are you sure you're not?"

His gaze, piercing and amused, made me shrink inward. I didn't trust my voice again, so I simply gave a nod.

"But you look like one," he said, eyes slowly scanning my clothes.

I stared, not at his face now- but at his chest, because that felt safer. Less humiliating.

"I mean, look at you," he continued.

"Not trying to be mean here. But just look at yourself... and then look at everyone else around you."
He chuckled under his breath and walked away, leaving behind a trail of arrogance like it was his birthright.

How can someone be so full of themselves? Just because he's good looking? Okay, fine, he is the hottest guy I've ever seen. But still. That doesn't give him the right to look down on others like they're trash.

Fuming, I headed to the washroom and splashed cold water on my face, trying to wash off the sting of humiliation. That's when my phone rang.
Kevin.
"Come fast" he said.

With a heavy sigh and shoulders slumped in defeat, I left the washroom and made my way back toward the store.

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Xo,
Marbil

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