Everything in here feels like I am in a battle with a foreigner, in a foreign country, and losing at the same time.
I don't know if I can blend, if I can adapt.
You know adaptation is needed for survival, but for now, adaptation isn't certain for me, and that means surviving would be a lot. I don't know if I can even exist.
I am trying to remind myself that it won't take long—a year max, and I will be out—but it just feels like a lie to me. It feels like this whole place is mocking me, telling me lies, and I'm drowning slowly.
And a year looks like walking a desert of more than 50 miles rather than meters. It looks so, so far and above my reach.
Funny how a whole year wasn't big before; it's more like an eye blink and you're there. I think that's because I was okay and not counting on it to run down faster—unlike now.
Life was much easier, I was happy and content.
I didn't wish for all these, but my dad's life is way more important—the only family I have now.
And I'm sure he'll try his best to save me if it were the other way around. He would practically put his life on the line for his little princess—for me.
I didn't know I was already crying until my tears dropped on my palm.
I just hope he'll pull through this sooner. I hope he'll be fine and able to move around without help once more.
I hope to see him smile again—truly, not a forced smile because he wants me to be strong while the doctor keeps telling me his health is deteriorating.
I just hope. I wiped my tears.
It was some minutes past 7 before I could put myself together and go downstairs for dinner.
Reaching there, dinner was served, and Damien was already halfway into his meal.
He was munching on the salmon and his eyes scanning the screen of his device. When I drew out a chair to take my seat, he didn't look up but said, "Oh, see who miraculously appeared."
I didn't say a word; I just dished out some for myself and began eating.
I didn't want to come down at first, but I was seriously starving. Though I could eat in my room as he suggested, I didn't want him to feel he is a threat to me.
"Hmmmm…" He cleared his throat.
"And you're late," he said after dropping his phone on the dining table.
"I thought you wouldn't come down…
Dinner is by 7, and you have to be here by 7—nothing more than 7 p.m.," he said.
I looked at him confused and asked, "Is there a problem with me choosing to eat now?"
"You have to keep to time, Eva. You don't have to be lackadaisical with everything just because they aren't work.
Families eat together, and I am sure you know that."
Oh my goodness! I refuse to be frustrated in this house, I said to myself.
Did I just hear family?
This man is something else. I scoffed.
"What?" he asked.
"Why did your board need a married man?"
I quickly changed the topic. I don't want to go over how I got here before he says something that'll get me pissed. He lashes out whenever he likes; it's more like a hobby to him.
"They are old-schooled, they know nothing!" he started, and I almost laughed at that line. I could tell the irritation only from his voice.
"They have a stupid belief about family—values—standards—being responsible as a physical assessment before the actual capacity to carry out the work.
They said it matters when negotiating with legacy investors," he hissed.
"I don't see how that's wrong," I said.
"I know you won't," he scoffed.
I rolled my eyes. I'm not ready for a fight or to banter words with him tonight; I already know he will win, so it's pointless.
"So why didn't you get a model? More like faking a relationship."
"Eva, like I said earlier, I did, but it leaked, and my stock dipped 4 coins. A friend of hers sold it to the public. I got a rash at that period.
I'm not ready to make another mistake."
"So you feel I am the right one for you?"
"Convenient.
Convenient is the word, Eva—not right."
It came as a sting, but then I waved it off.
He is so raw with his words; I should start getting used to it.
"So what makes you think I wouldn't tell on you?"
"Hahaha! Really, Eva?
You're too desperate for that, and we both know."
I grimaced and dug my fork into my salmon while he sipped on his wine with a weird smile.
"You really have your way with women, don't you?"
"I don't need charm… all I need is silence."
He smirked.
"You're soulless," I said, pushing my plate toward him.
"And you're judgmental for someone who signed a contract."
I looked at him deadpan, but then he was right after all.
"You don't have to remind me every single time," I rolled my eyes and proceeded to get up.
But he didn't stop me.
What was making me feel like he would?
I should have known he's a grumpy maniac—so full of himself and cares about nothing but himself and his stupid money.
That night I couldn't get any sleep, so I stayed up thinking about my life.
Standing at the window, watching the cool quiet night, reminiscing on how good and simple life has been even though it wasn't all rosy. Neither is now.
I touched my ring, and it was plain and neutral. It wasn't meant to be luxury, not like we both wanted to be here.
I hissed and sniffed, preventing the tears that were about to build up.
"What have I done?" I asked myself, I mumbled.
Eva there shouldn't be any regret, you can fight through this.