Chase Me

4.

No mom, I have my reasons. It's not about family. It's different.

Different as in Zane-different?

Mom!

You two are not on good terms aren't you?

Who told you?

No one told me. I just know!

No, we are not on good terms. But I don't want to talk about it.

Is he the reason why you never want to stay longer than one week in New York?

Ye..No! Mom, I have to go now. Talk to you later.

Love you! And call more often, will you?

Love you too! And yes I will!

It was a timely call. I nearly revealed to my mom the reason why I didn't want to stay in New York for an extended period of time. I didn't want to jeopardize the relationship my parents had with the Shaw family over some petty drama between Zane and me. Knowing my dad, once he heard the reason behind our falling out, he would go to great lengths to undermine the Shaw family.

I had witnessed it happen with other families countless times before. My dad was a caring and loving husband and father, but once he stepped into his office, he transformed into a ruthless businessman.

Gathering my clothes from the floor, I made my way to my spacious bedroom with a queen-size bed. It was my favorite place in the entire apartment. The room boasted floor-to-ceiling windows, a glossy marble floor adorned with a white fluffy rug, walls painted in a beautiful pale sandy fawn color, and a grand chandelier in the center of the ceiling providing a soft, ambient glow.

I tossed my clothes onto the pile of other garments on the black chair in the corner. If I ever found the time, I would fold and organize them in my messy closet, which resembled the rest of the apartment. The only tidy spot in the entire place was my bed.

As I walked into the bathroom, narrowly avoiding tripping over an empty shampoo bottle, I studied my reflection in the mirror. My slumped shoulders and dark circles under my eyes served as evidence of my lack of sleep. Turning the steel tap of the marble sink, I leaned down and splashed water on my face, attempting to wash away my exhaustion. After repeating the process four times, I finally straightened up and blindly reached out for the towel.

Gently patting my face dry, I exited the bathroom and made my way to the kitchen. The sink greeted me with a pile of dishes from last night and the past two weeks, embodying the chaos of my messy kitchen.

A lone slice of cheese and an empty milk container stared up at me from the floor. Letting out a grunt, I tossed the towel onto the kitchen counter and squatted down to pick up the unsightly slice of cheese, now coated in fungus, and the foul-smelling empty milk container. The stench caused a wave of nausea, and I had to fight the urge to vomit right there on the floor.

Disposing of the cheese and milk container in the trashcan, I washed my hands with soap and dried them on a clean tablecloth.

It was clear that I needed to hire a maid because this situation was spiraling out of control. My apartment was slowly turning into a dump, and with my busy schedule, I simply didn't have the time to clean it up. Most days, even Sundays, I found myself at the office until late at night or early in the morning.