Money can't buy you peace, Beasty!

Asia had no memory of that night whatsoever. Yesternight. The night that had vanquished her mother peace of mind, successfully. She thought that it was some sort of psychological issue so she booked an appointment with Dr Batool Rizvi, a renowned psychiatrist. She didn't want to remind Asia of her frantic episode, that happened last night. She didn't want to add to her stress which had led her to scream, wail and claw at herself in the middle of the night. She didn't know what could be the root of this issue, thankfully they now had enough money to be able to afford sessions with the best psychiatrist in town.

Asia was getting ready to take her mother to the doctor. She chose a simple, flowy, white, ankle-length Chanel dress. It was a loose-fitting dress with three-quarter sleeves. Asia had always loved this dress. It made her feel like she was in some fairy tale because the dress was so flowy and the material was exquisite chiffon. It had little pleating details near the neckline and beautiful, intricate, white silk thread, embroidery details on the cuffs. She paired it with her nude Bottega Veneta leather intrecciato slides and accessorized with her only ring which was a beautiful Suzzane Kalan yellow gold and emerald eternity ring. She wanted to buy everything at Harrods but she realised she was not that rich, as yet.

She used to think somebody who owns a land cruiser is just as rich as somebody who owns a Tesla. More importantly, she didn't even know much about cars. All she knew was that people who had bigger heaps of money had the bigger car. But now that her father became rich she realised that there were levels of being rich. It was not just become a millionaire and now you can afford anything and everything. Nah baby. There are layers, as Shrek said layers like an onion. And to reach the ultimate innermost layer you had to lose every layer around you. And truth be told she was ready for it.

She wanted everybody in the clinic to stare at her in awe. She wanted girls in the clinic to annoy their parents when they go home, pester them to buy them things they cant afford. She knew she was rich and so much better than everybody else, she thought to herself as she curled her luscious locks.

She stood against the mirror staring at herself proudly as if she had made her own self. Her barely-there makeup made her feel even more pleased with her self. Earlier this morning she wasn't feeling herself but right now she felt as if owned the world.

As Asia got out of her father's Lx570 she could see everyone in the private clinic's parking lot stare at her enviously. She didn't even notice the big signboard that said "psychiatrist" with the doctor's name since she was so engrossed in her own self. Even at the clinic's reception area of the everybody was looking at her. Everyone in the clinic was kind of mediocre, average looking. However, there was this one lady with Hermès Bleu Sac Birkin Faubourg and a pink gold Cartier bracelet with pink diamonds. That woman seemed very distressed and disinterested in her surrounding. Why would she even be interested in anybody? Nobody here was even close to her league, Asia thought to herself, but I'm going to become even richer than her soon after we receive the remaining amount of the deal.

Asia was slightly annoyed that there was somebody in the clinic with more money than her. The keyword being slight, because ultimately she knew nobody knew exactly how costly all of the things she had on were. Only somebody who actually goes to luxury stores knows the actual prices.

"Asia Manzoor." called out the receptionist.

Asia was surprised as to why the appointment would be under her name when it is her Mama they were here to get checked.

She took her mother to the doctor's room and slowly she started to realise that this was no general physician rather a psychiatrist. She was shell-shocked as to what might have gone so wrong that her mother would have to set up a session with a psychiatrist since they were still a taboo in south Asia, where she lived.

The psychiatrist was a classy lady in her late forties, the kind of class and confidence that comes with intellect, experience and reputable, aspirable connections. Her personality was beyond impressive, the way she sat, talked, took notes exuded confidence and grace. The sleek bun and cat-eye Gucci glasses gave her a little edge.

She was asking Mama random questions and all of sudden she started talking to Asia. The questions were initially pretty general like name, age but then she started asking stuff like

"Do you feel anxious?"

"Not really."

"Do you feel alone?"

"Never."

"Do you find yourselves somewhere other than the place you slept, when you wake up?"

"No."

"Do you hear your heart beating in your chest?"

"Yeah, right now."

And that concluded Asia's session.

However, she had appointments set in stone for the rest of the week.