Chapter 3

Philip's place was decked out like a high-end boutique.

Everything was cold—black, white, and gray everywhere, with those razor-sharp couches and abstract art I couldn't make heads or tails of.

Forget about any sense of home; this place was all ice and ego, stacked up with cash.

He'd ordered takeout straight from a five-star hotel—gourmet plates loaded with cuts of meat and veggies I couldn't even identify.

Valda pulled a bright, colorful silk scarf out of a shopping bag with a luxury brand logo and unfurled it right in front of me.

"Mom, look! I picked this out just for you; it's a designer brand, and even after the discount, it still costs hundreds. Wear it when you go out, it'll give your look a boost," she said.

As she spoke, she started in with that lecture-y tone, schooling me on what to wear for every occasion and which accessories actually "counted" as classy.

I stared at that scarf; the spot where the tag had been snipped still had a couple of stray threads clinging to it.

I knew exactly what this was: probably some discounted find she scored at the outlet, but now she was waving it around as her personal teaching tool.

Right on cue, Philip walked out of his study with a pile of printouts and dropped them in front of me.

"Mom, here's the 'spending guide' I made for you," he announced.

He jabbed a finger at the page, totally in CEO mode, like he was laying down the law for his underlings.

"From now on, when you buy stuff, just stick to these brands. They're all affordable luxury—won't break the bank, but still look classy. See? I already slapped a big red X on the local slum market. Don't bother going there again," he said.

My eyes landed on that sheet—crammed with brand logos and a flood of words I'd never seen before.

And in the "No-Go Zones" section, the words "slum market" were slashed with a glaring red X.

He brought up that 40-cent garlic again.

"Mom, this isn't about money; it's about your 'poor mindset.' If you keep shopping at places like that, it'll hold back our next generation. Once we have kids, do you really want to drag them to the slum? What would their classmates think?" Philip said.

Valda jumped in right away. "Exactly, Mom, we're just trying to help you out. You represent our family now; you can't embarrass us in front of our friends, right?"

They were in perfect sync, like they'd rehearsed this a hundred times.

To them, they treated me like some clueless kid who needed to be retrained and fixed up.

I kept my mouth shut, not arguing back or saying a single word, just letting their lecture wash over me.

I picked up my fork and started eating, slow and steady, ignoring everything else.

The expensive foie gras melted in my mouth, leaving behind nothing but the taste of cold, hard cash.

The perigord truffle they kept hyping up was, I had to admit, tender and juicy.

I cleaned my plate, finishing every last bite of the fancy dishes they'd ordered.

Here I was, eating their food paid for with their money, while they sat there lecturing me about how I spend my own.

Honestly, was there anything more ridiculous than this?

They took my silence as agreement, like I was just quietly conceding I was wrong.

That only made them even more smug.

Philip started bragging about this luxurious private villa he'd been checking out in the suburbs, complete with its own garden and swimming pool.

"Once we move into that villa, we'll rent this place out. Valda, you can just focus on prepping for the baby, and we'll hire two maids, one for cooking, one for cleaning," he said, like he was the king of the world.

He was all fired up, laying out their grand plans for the future, and there wasn't a single spot for me in that picture.

I set down my fork and dabbed my mouth with a napkin.

Then I looked up at them and shot them a little smile.

"Finished?" I asked.

My voice was quiet, but it weighed heavy.

Philip and Valda both froze; the smugness hadn't even faded from their faces.

"If that's all, I'm heading home," I said.

I stood up, ready to walk out.

They were expecting me to cry, argue, or make a scene, but I didn't give them any of that.

My calm attitude caught them completely off guard, and suddenly, all those lines they'd prepped to calm me down or shut me up were just pointless.

Philip shot me an annoyed look. "Mom, what's with the attitude?"

I met his gaze, the smirk on my lips just getting bigger.

"No attitude at all. Just sat through all your boasting, and now I'm going home," I said lightly.

It was always dead silent before the storm rolled in.

My calm? It was that dangerous hush, right before the tidal wave crashing down and sweeping everything away.

*****

Monday rolled around. I didn't get up at the crack of dawn to hit the local market and get their dinner ready, like I always did.

I slept in until I woke up naturally, then threw on some comfy workout clothes and went for a walk in the park near my place.

The sun was shining, birds were singing, and the air was filled with the scent of flowers.

How long had it been since I last enjoyed a lazy morning all to myself?

I'd almost forgotten what that felt like.