THE RICH AND AFFLUENT!
I entered my eerily quiet house, dropping my bag and coat on the shiny floor, the silence a reminder to the chaos that had become my life. I headed straight to my room, a sanctuary that seemed to shrink with each passing day. I was slowly getting used to my parents' absence, but the ache within me refused to subside. My mom hadn't returned since the day she went to court, and everyone acted like it was normal - like she was just away on a extended vacation, not fighting for her freedom.
I tried calling her, but it went straight to voicemail, her voice a cruel reminder of the distance between us. I texted her, pouring out my heart, but she didn't reply. The silence was deafening.
After a calming shower, I wrapped myself in a plush towel and logged into my Instagram, hoping to distract myself from the chaos that had become my life. But instead, I was bombarded with more shocking news. I clicked on our school account, and my heart sank like a stone. Pictures of me and my parents were splashed everywhere, showcasing our seemingly happy family - a facade that had fooled even me. The captions read: "Mr. and Mrs. Luis, a power couple no more?" And "Divorce rumors surround the Luis family." The words seared into my brain like a branding iron, each letter a reminder that my life was now a spectacle for all to see.
I fell sick to my stomach as I scrolled through the comments and my DMs, the words blurring together like a toxic cocktail. "Mr. Luis rekindling romance with high school sweetheart Chelsea Evans." The phrase seemed to sear itself into my brain. Now that sounded cool, I thought, my mind laced with sarcasm and desperation. Yeah, I know it was a stupid thing to say at that moment, but do you know who Chelsea Evans is?
My heart raced with questions I couldn't muster the courage to ask anyone. Was it true? Was my dad really moving on? And with her of all people? The constant notifications and buzzing felt overwhelming, a cacophony of chaos that threatened to drown me. In a moment of frustration, I slammed my phone against the wall - a cathartic release I'd always wanted to do but couldn't, knowing I'd probably never get a new phone until maybe during my funeral. It felt good to do it now, the screen shattering into a thousand pieces like my heart.
Just when I thought the drama was over, my room was suddenly invaded by a swarm of servants and stylists. I was informed that my mom had returned and we would be attending a red carpet event: The rich and affluent - a REDSFIELD finest. At that point I was too exhausted to care that she left her son for two days and the first thing she thought about was an event? Yeah I'm not surprised. So I didn't protest, it would be nice to get some fresh air. One of them approached me, holding up two designer outfits. "Gucci or Dior?" He asked with raised eyebrows and a beautiful French accent.
"I'll explore my options hehe!" I played along. As I stood in front of the mirror, the sylist presented me with another two options, a sleek Gucci outfit, "the claw." And a dashing dior ensemble, "the blue arch." I examined both outfits, my eyes widening in excitement.
The claw boasted a black jacket with a subtle tiger print, paired with a crisp white shirt and slim fit trousers. The overall look was sharp and sophisticated, complimenting my lean physique.
The blue arch was a bold monochromatic ensemble, featuring a navy blue jacket with a hint of sparkle, a matching shirt and fitted pants. The outfit exuded confidence and glamour. After trying on both outfits, and several other outfits, I finally made my decision. I chose the blue arch feeling like a billion dollars in the stunning ensemble. My hair was styled to perfection and it added a touch of elegance to my overall look. My face, with it's chiseled features and bright blue eyes radiated only one thing, "filthy rich!"
I wished grandma could have seen me like that. As I gazed at my reflection, I barely recognized the confident stylish young boy...man staring back at me. I was a true red carpet sensation! Ready to take on the glamorous world of the rich and affluent! One pose at a time...
As I descended the grand staircase, I was taken aback by my mom's beauty. Her elegant satin gown shimmered like moonlight, its delicate folds draping perfectly around her slender frame. But her fake smile, a practiced curve of her lips, struck a discordant chord within me. It was a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, a smile that was rehearsed.
As I approached her, the first thing she did was scrutinize my outfit, her gaze roving over me like a critical spotlight. She checked my collar, my hair, every detail, just to make sure I looked perfect. Not a word about how I was feeling, not a gentle inquiry about my day. Just a meticulous inspection, a silent demand that I conform to her standards. I felt a surge of irritation at her presence, a sense of suffocation under her exacting gaze. I allowed her to do what she did, my movements mechanical, I sighed and rolled my eyes but she didn't even notice.
Together we made our way to the event, surrounded by the buzz of excitement. Initially the glitz and glamour of the red carpet affair thrilled me. However, as we stepped into the spotlight, the relentless flashbulbs and paparazzi frenzy became overwhelming. I winced shielding my eyes from the intense glares. The constant clicks and shouts from the photographers were suffocating. Like gosh man give me a break! As the evening wore on, my enthusiasm waned, and I found myself counting down the minutes until it was all over. The constant scrutiny and attention were exhausting. I longed for my room - the one I could never get used to. Finally, the event drew to a close, and I breathed a sigh of relief as we made our way back home.
As we stepped into our grand estate, the usual monotone routine unfolded like a well-rehearsed play. The servants fawned over us, their faces masks of obsequiousness, as they took our coats and offered us refreshments. Dinner was served at 7, a lavish spread of crystal and silver, the food a culinary masterpiece that I barely tasted. Afterward, I retired to the entertainment room, where I indulged in movies and games, the silence thick and heavy.
As the night drew to a close, I retreated to my room, and lay on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. I hummed to my favorite songs, picked by Ann, my voice barely above a whisper. The melodies were a bittersweet reminder of times I never loved, but at least I was happy. But here, in this humongous room, I was alone. No one came to check up on me, no one to ask about my day, no one to say goodnight. I lay there, enveloped in darkness, the silence a palpable thing, a reminder that I was just a ghost in my own life, invisible and forgotten. No gentle kiss on the forehead, no soft whisper of "I love you." Just the echoes of my own heartbeat.