Chapter 18: Dufoos

I wake up, plastering a bright smile on my face. Fake it till you make it, right? It always happens this way—I shove my bad emotions somewhere deep inside, pack them up like an unwanted gift, and push forward. Because what's the alternative? Wallowing? Crying? No thanks.

I brush my teeth, tie my hair into a messy bun, and pop my headset on. Today, I have one goal—to spoil myself.

Not a low calorie food for Jasmine or a quick breakfast for dad

I eat for me.

I have the opportunity to take it hot and refreshing and no I don't have to take peanut butter sandwich cause I'm rushing to work.

I make my way downstairs, keeping my fingers crossed that I don't run into Mr. Asshole. And guess what? Luck is on my side—no sight of him.

I strut into the kitchen, fully ready to embrace my main character moment. A thick, buttery omelet. Beef-bacon sizzling like it's flirting with me. Freshly brewed coffee—not that bitter, sugarless abomination people pretend to enjoy, but real coffee. The kind that makes you close your eyes in appreciation.

I hum along to the song blasting in my headset, moving to the rhythm as I flip the bacon—

Until someone yanks the headset right off my head.

"HEY!" I whip around, glaring at the audacity standing before me.

A woman—mid-to-late twenties, jet-black hair, eyes burning with fury. She stares at me like I just committed a crime.

"Who are you?" she demands, hands on hips.

I blink. "Excuse me?"

"I said, who are you little girl?" she repeats, louder this time.

Little girl

Oh, she wants a fight.

Her nostrils flare. "So now you're deaf too?"

Lady, if I were deaf, I'd consider it a blessing right now.

She scans the kitchen, eyes landing on my sizzling bacon and beautifully made coffee. And then—oh Lord—she gasps like I just sacrificed a baby goat.

"You're COOKING?!"

"No, I'm performing an ancient kitchen ritual," I deadpan. "What does it look like?"

She ignores me and dramatically clutches her chest. "I was only gone for a few days and I've already been replaced?!"

"Oh my God, hold on—"

"And what are you wearing?" she cuts me off, eyes widening at my oversized polo shirt and shorts. "Did you come here to seduce the boss?! I know girls like you—"

I glance down at myself. Seduce who? In this? I look like a sleep-deprived intern.

"Ma'am, I'm just trying to make breakfast, please calm down—"

She doesn't calm down. If anything, she gets worse.

She gasps again, pointing an accusatory finger at my pan. "Is that—PORK?!"

"No it-" I said turning off the stove cause this woman did not seem to be shutting up any time soon.

"DON'T YOU KNOW HE DOESN'T EAT PORK, YOU STUPID WOMAN?!"

Alright, enough.

I slam my hand on the counter, making her jump. "Will you shut up for two seconds and let me talk?!"

She glares. "Why would I when you're dancing around on duty and trying to serve pork to the boss,  what was he thinking when he hired someone like you?" And no she didn't stop yelling

"First of all, I'm not on duty. Second, read the label, genius. It says beef-"

She opens her mouth, ready to cut me off—

But then he walks in.

Xavier.

He moves like a storm—calm, dangerous, lethal. His hair is a mess, his shirt is unbuttoned just enough to be distracting, and his sleeves are rolled up like he's about to ruin someone's day.

My lungs? Non-functional.

Emily, on the other hand, sprints toward him like a contestant on a reality show.

She ran to him and started narrating everything he didn't ask her

"Sir! How could you hire someone like her?! to replace me?, I've been working here for so many years now and because I fell sick you tried to replace me" she wails. "She insulted me! She tried to feed you PORK—"

"First of all, I'm not trying to replace anyone Second, read the label, genius. It says beef-bacon in big, bold letters."

She opens her mouth, ready to fire back—

Xavier rubs his temples. He looks so done with both of us.

"Emily," he says, voice low, deep and tired.

She stops ranting immediately.

"She's not a maid," he continues, his gaze flicking to me.

I hold my breath.

"She's... my wife."

Silence.

Pure, golden silence.

Emily gasps for the tenth time, turning paler than the milk in the fridge.

I smirk. Oh, this is fun.

"W-Wife?!" she sputters. "Wh-when did this happen?"

"That's none of your business," Xavier states, his voice sharp. "And no one is to find out about it. If I hear this from anyone else, you won't like what happens next, do I make myself clear."

Emily gulps. "Y-Yes, sir."

Xavier leaves without sparing me another glance.

Meanwhile, Emily looks like she's reconsidering her life choices.

I step toward her, watching as she instantly takes a step back. Oh? Where's all that confidence now?

I take my headset from her hand, turn on my heel, and walk away without another word.

Dufoos

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

I don't see either of them for the rest of the day.

Emily avoids me like the plague (good choice), and Xavier? Nowhere. Didn't eat breakfast. Didn't show up for dinner. Probably locked himself in his office.

I try not to care. Really, I do.

Leave him Mira he's going to be fine, he said not to meddle with his business. if he has been doing the same thing before I came then he would be fine.

I shake off the thought, binge Netflix for a few hours, and eat the dinner Emily made before she left. I was too lazy to tour around the house so I decided to do it the he next day.

Still no Xavier.

Not even one unnecessary smirk.

Annoying.

But it's almost nighttime, and he still hasn't eaten.

But whatever. He can starve if he wants to. Not my problem.

^_~

thanks for reading <3

stay chaotic 😎and sassy 💅

~Annyeong

Pronounced: AN- nyeong

Korean for see ya soon