Billionaire's Ex-Wife ✓

III. Watch My Baby

Vivian's POV:

When I received the phone call, anxiety was an understatement. I've been to dozens of interviews before and many conversational exchanges; somehow, I always feel anxious speaking to the person who is supposedly superior than me.

"Yes. Yes." I bow towards the small cactus plant that desperately needs watering. I grip tightly onto the phone with both hands. "Yes. I'll be there." I attempt to contain the butterflies fluttering inside my stomach.

Amoli was sitting on the chair across from me, scribbling words onto her notebook. Resting an elbow against the counter, she lazily picked up a chip and threw it into her mouth.

"Thank you for the opportunity," I said, before proceeding the conversation with a farewell. I threw the phone down once the call ended. "I got an interview."

Amoli stops writing, twisting the chair towards me as a perfect brow arch. "I thought I told you to rest."

"I did rest!" I exclaimed, pointing at the fluffy bunny socks on my feet. I wiggle it a few times to prove my comfort. Plus, I've been catching up on my Korean dramas. I don't want to bring that up, or Amoli will tease me about my yellow fever again.

"It's been five days." She taps her fingers against the counter, "And you didn't rest these five days at all. You practically cleaned the whole apartment."

"I swear, you're the only person who complains when someone else does your laundry."

"Well, maybe, I want my underwear to be folded into rectangles, not squares. Squares are for losers, and I ain't no square!" Her voice was sarcastic.

"Then, what shape are you?"

"I'm a damn star!"

"Like Patrick Star?"

"Of course." She gave me a side, teasing glance while nudging her brows.

"Then that makes me Spongebob, eh?"

She stood up, "Life is sweet, there are snacks we can eat," she sang. She twirl around with the bowl of chips.

I stood up, doing my chicken dance towards the fridge, and took out a block of cheese. "We'll have fun if we go out rather than just sit around doing nothing. Let's explore, open every drawer," I sang along with her, and melt the cheese in the microwave.

She began twirling back towards me. "Hey, you found my long lost cheese!" She points at the light up the microwave.

"That's what friends are for! Let's have some fun together....with-" the microwave ding and I push open the microwave, "cheese and-" She held up the bowl, extending a single leg like the Lion King, "chips!"

"You're my best friend forever!" she screamed as we held the two bowls in the air.

There was pounding in the ceiling, "Shut up! Broadway doesn't want you, and neither do I!" Our wonderful upstairs neighbor screamed.

"This is hot! Can I put it down!" I continued singing, ignoring the always angry scream upstairs. My hands were burning, regretting my stupidity. Quickly, I threw the bowl down and turned on the sink water. Placing my hands underneath the cold water, I sigh in relief.

Once I wiped my hands, I flopped back onto the couch, face first. Amoli pushes herself up and walks towards me, with the bowl of chips in her hands. "You sure you're up for this?"

No one is ever up for another rejection.

"Yes." Liar.

Amoli sigh, an exaggeratedly long one, one who says I can't deal with your thick head anymore.