I search for a bad and hurtful word to throw at him, but nothing came into my mind, probably because he's so fucking perfect.
"I have never seen someone so fucking annoying in my life." I seethe, glaring really hard at him.
That was the best I coul...
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"Mum I can't think of anything!" I groan out in frustration, dumping myself on my Mum's favourite half a million white fur sofa.
"This scandal is taking a heavy toll on you I see." Her more relaxed and collected voice sings through the room.
"No it's not just the scandal at this point. It's everything and I'm just really exhausted. I feel like I wanna die." She laughs lightly at my childish complaint, but it makes me groan more.
It's a normal Sunday morning. I came over to see my mom and now we are both in her massive living room.
After my attempt of secluding myself for almost a week, I tried to get back to work, but painfully I couldn't.
I had a few creative block-out when I started designing years ago, which was really depressive.
Sometimes, I wouldn't be able to draw any designs or make any designs for months and it really affected my company, since I started at a very young age which was sixteen.
During those depressive days was when I decided to distract myself with something and since I've always loved the modelling world, I decided to be a CoverGirl, which was something I didn't know I was great at too.
It helped me a lot more than I thought it would and it also helped my company at the starting point. I worked with a lot of amazing fashion brands and world-known designers.
My Mom originally wanted me to be under her company, since she is a designer too and a very great one at that. But when I turned sixteen, I made it my personal mission to start my own fashion brand.
It's not easy at all. I have touched the surface of my journey in the fashion world.
"Sweetheart," I watch my Mom leave the board of her new designs she's examining and walks to sit next to me.
"You need to take a break." She brings the cup of hot steaming coffee that has been sitting on the coffee table, to her lips.
Her eyes run over my outfit, causing her face to resort in slight distaste. "And you need to stop dressing like a hobo." She refers to my very comfortable sweatshirt and sweatpant.
"Calling someone a hobo is offensive Mum and nothing on this planet is ever gonna stop me from wearing sweatshirts." She rolls her eyes playfully at my defensive comeback.
"But back to what you were saying about taking a break...." I sighed, dipping my hands into the pocket of my shirt. It's like zero degrees in my mom's house and I can assure you, she is the ice queen.
I can think of someone that calls me that.
"I don't think it's a good idea. If I do so, they'll win. I will be giving all those people, the haters the upper hand and you know I can't do that." She stays quiet for some moments. Reading my expression like she can see through me.
