Page 16 of My Ruthless Opponent

I couldn’t afford to be in a relationship. Couldn’t let anyone close enough to form attachments. My goal is set. I can’t let my personal conflicts get in my way.

Everyone thinks I come from money. My friends, or should I say colleagues, never came by my place. But they know I own the apartment. Or they think I do.

I don’t. I am not even on a lease. I pay rent monthly.

I let them think I own the apartment to maintain the façade.

I invested in a stylish wardrobe and a decent ride to maintain the image of being financially stable.

While my job pays well, the salary is utilized for my family and little to nothing is saved.

I climb inside my white Toyota Prius and pull away from the driveway.

Raleigh had emailed me last night regarding the meeting which was scheduled for today.

He wrote that the meeting has been moved from three in the afternoon to 8:00 a.m.

I glance at the clock on the dashboard. It’s half-past six. I hope I can make it in time.

???

I slide the envelope of cash over the counter toward the lady.

She glares at me.

I always pay the monthly home care bill in cash. I have been for a year now. Every month, she has to count it because I refuse to pay with a card.

It is funny how I don’t recall ever asking her name.

Usually, she never openly expresses her annoyance. But today she is openly locking horns with me.

I maintain eye contact and cock my head. I raise my perfectly defined eyebrow.

If looks could kill, I have been told that mine would be a weapon of mass destruction.

Raleigh is the only person who’s immune to my infamous death glare.

As expected, she averts her eyes in seconds and keeps them on the work at hand.

A wry smile curls my lips. My persona is prickly and it works in my favor.

If you are all soft and naïve, it wouldn’t take long for this world to crush your softness. I didn’t give others the chance to do so.

The only person to ever do that to me would be myself.

Breaking up with Andrew helped me shed the last soft petals I had left. Now, all that’s left behind are my thorns.

After the payments are made, I make my way to his room.

The white and sterile corridor carry me to my destination.

With each step, I begin losing myself-the twenty-seven-year-old woman-and transform into a seven-year-old girl.

The clicking of my heels echoing morphs into the squeaking of pink sandals.

The bag I am clutching in my fingers takes the form of Mr. bunny, the stuffed rabbit thathegave to me.

I feel my heart thundering in my chest as I reach his door.

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