If you think your life is bad, you should open your eyes and look around. Pretty sure there will be at least one person who has it worse than you. I'm not that close with Liz because she works at another location before being transferred at the main office here just a few months ago but from the look of it, she doesn't seem to have the best luck. I'm a few years younger than her but I'm already a senior executive while she's still a junior, I don't know what happened but she started her career quite late hence the lower position. I still don't get it till this day (which I believe I'm not the only person in the office to have this thought) why our boss who is such a nice and understanding person all these while, suddenly becomes an asshole when it comes to dealing with her. Drew is the boss whom everyone would agree what an angel he is because he wouldn't hesitate to help us be it on technical or personal matters. But when it’s Liz, oh my God, he's the definition of devil-in-disgui

When I first came to Maison de Verdue last year, on the day I reported duty as a sugar baby, I had to give the security guard my license for registration and verification. But on the following visits, I didn’t have to do it simply because the car he gave me was already in the list along with a sticker pasted on the front windscreen that would instantly grant me access into the building. After I returned him the car, and I started coming here as a friend with my own car, despite my plat number being on his list of approved visitors, I complained about the hassle of having to hand out my licence to the security guard for verification. He immediately got me a sticker that eased my visits because I then was able to go in and out of the building without having to roll down my driver’s window all the time. Fast forward to the first day I drove here three weeks ago after our official separation, I was surprised despite seeing it coming; my car plat number had been removed from the list of

You know what they say, fake it till you make it. I'm lucky he didn't see my surprised face to discover there's a possibility he knows about her. Because for all we know, he could be talking about someone else. Perhaps it's my sister, or my Mom, or even Abby. Maybe he's asking about one of them since today is Thanksgiving Day. You know, Thanksgiving equals family so. "She's good," I grab my handbag and the car key before turning around, forcing myself to act all calm and composed, as if we're indeed talking about Emma/Mom/Abby."Uhmmm," I glance at the watch on my wrist, subtly dropping a hint on how late it is, "I should really go. If you can tap the elevator for me-""You can stay here if you want." That recommendation got my attention as I stop fiddling with the car key that's in my hand, quickly raising my gaze to look at the beautiful face. "It's okay," I grin awkwardly, "I'll just head home."I've been stupid enough to do all sorts of things like sending the text messages and

"Let's have breakfast, Baby." It’s like I’m dealing with Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde when he suddenly switch from giving that glare and uttered those hurtful words in such sharp tone, into this gentleman, the invitation was softly spoken as if he’s being careful not to break his Baby. "What would you like?” He asks in what seems like a whisper right after kneeling in front of me, directly facing my bump, “Pancakes? Waffles? French toast?”Placing a palm on one side of the bump, he continues asking my stomach, “Or a steak?" then proceeds to chuckle at his own joke. I can’t help but to smile at this silliness because that was indeed a very bad joke but the way he tried to crack one with my tummy, it’s like watching a psychiatric patient talking to a wall.“Come on, let’s go downstairs. I’ll make it a surprise.”He stands up and towers over me, the smiley face is gone the moment he looks at me. Huh, Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde indeed. Who knew I’d be living in a famous storybook at the age of 33.

I’ve been half-awake for quite some time; refusing to open my eyes eventhough I’m no longer sleeping. Lying on my right side, hugging a pillow close to my chest, a blanket covering my body up to my neck, I don’t think I’ll ever get up because this is a very comfortable position. What’s better is when she kicks, the palm that is resting on my baby bump would immediately rub the spot as to tone down the movement, telling her to take it easy. She would stop for a while, then kicks again, and the same thing repeats itself. I’m not sure how long did I nap but like I said, I’m not going to wake up anytime sooner, simply because I don’t really have anything going on today. For all I care, I can lie on this bed until tomorrow comes. Suddenly I hear a vibration sound that I’m pretty sure originated from his phone because a second later, the palm leaves my body as his deep voice answers the call, “Hmm.” As soon as he takes the palm, another one lands on the spot he left earlier. I’m guessi