His Mail Order Bride.

My blurry gaze takes a while to clear and I note that I'm on the ground. A frown hits my lips as I try to sit up. Did I pass out

catch her sleeping between her books. A new school year has begun, her final year of high school. My lips twitch but don't quite form a smile. Going to school on

she gazes down at me. I nod, too ti

d my keys to get in." I tell h

are for school, you're finally a s

her room and into the kitchen. There, I see a pile of bills that are yet to be paid, and my stomach constricts. Anytime from now and they'l

out as I turn on the sto

eplies, her v

ing too hard. I don't want to get a migraine. I mindlessly go through the motions of making breakfast f

back at me. That's not supposed to be me. Is it? I'm only twenty-seven years old. Wh

r meal on the kitchen counter and smiles, immediately coming down to sit. She mutters a short prayer and starts wolfi

om the top of the bridge. Passing it to me, she goes back to sit down. Apprehensive, I tear it open, reading the contents. Th

ly, staring at me. I fold the piece of

serious. We've just been given an eviction notice. We have only one we

tight bun, she pushes the rest of her food to me. "Help me out on this one?" She asks before picking up her school ba

ur meds?' I ask he

lway

o get bullied!" I

en!" She replies and I hear

nking feeling washes over me. Get your ass up,

n a breakfast restaurant. It's located in the affluent part of the city and my boss especially hates tardiness. Though I've been sluggis

er voice as cheerful as always. I we

mutter, dropping my bag in the

a bit tired." She asked, h

as I walk towards the counter, cleaning the top

more rest. I can cover for you

t I kind of n

soon and I have to attend to those annoyingly spoilt customers, pretending to be excited about it when all I want to do is just burn the restaurant down. It's okay,

think about the deplorable state of my life. I get a few stares here and there but it only takes one glare for them to look away, pretending to be busy with their coffee. T

tching a table filled with this group

u don't

know

e internet lately. A billionaire

row. "In this

to tinder or something? Well, according to the post, int

gh?" I ask and S

cations." She clicks her tongue, grimacing. "Rich people do the

hinking of what it would feel like to be a billionaire's wife. I needed the money, we would be homeless soon. And I'm sure the reason Sophie isn't

, I find the viral post and confirm its authenticity before accessing my email. Clacking away at the keyboard, I write out my q

rote and delete it with immediate effect. It's even taking all the energy I can muster to not delete this a

o add this to the pile of things that I've done. That thought set firmly in

Email