DON’T CALL ME MOM
674 Words
“She’s not you.” I repeated, louder now. My jaw clenched so tight it hurt physically. “She’s a child. She needs—-“
”Don’t you dare lecture me about what she needs.” Her voice rose. “I’m the one dealing with her whining everyday while you’re off playing celebrity. You want to judge how I raise her? Then maybe you should be here instead of running off to your fancy apartment.”
My vision blurred. I stood up, pacing the small room, while my fingers tightened around the phone.
”I’m doing this for her,” I swallowed. “For both of you. So she doesn’t have to—“
“So she doesn’t have to do what? End up like me?” She laughed sharply, mockingly. “It’s too late for that sweetie. She’s already turning into a little brat who thinks the world owes her something.”
“Stop.” My eyes squeezed shut, the tears flowing down freely.
“What!”
”Stop talking about her like that.” I sniffled. “She’s your daughter.”
”You're my daughter too.” She shot back. “And look how you turned out. Throwing yourself at some hockey player on TV for money.”
The words hit like a slap.
I stood there, chest heaving, tears falling down my eyes. My hands shook so badly the phone almost dropped.
“I need five hundred dollars.” She said firmly. “The electric bill is overdue.”
There it was—her main agenda.
”I don’t have—-“
”Oh you never did stop lying, Reevie.” She groaned. “You’re on TV with a millionaire, you have money.”
”The contract doesn’t pay out until—-“
”I don’t care about the contract.” Her voice went hard. “They’re threatening to cut off the power. I need five hundred dollars this week.”
My throat closed up. “Okay.”
”Okay?” She sounded almost surprised
”I’ll send it.”
Silence settled on the other end for a while, then. “And don’t forget where you came from, baby.” Her voice softened, dripping with softness. “ I took care of you when I almost gave up, remember that.”
The line went dead. I stood there, phone still pressed to my ear.
Five hundred dollars I didn't have—For a mother who wouldn’t take care of her own daughter.
But I’d send it anyway. Because I always did, for Nadia.
I lowered the phone slowly. My hand still clenched in a fist, leaving marks in my palm. I could feel sharp pain coursing through my chest, though it was useless.
I hated her.
I hated that Nadia was stuck with her.
And worst of all—I knew the money wouldn’t change anything.
But I’d send it anyway.
My phone buzzed in my hand, but I ignored it. Maybe more strangers were still congratulating me on my fake relationship. But it buzzed again, and again.
I brought it to my face, ready to turn it off completely. Then I saw her message, Priya.
Priya: There’s a gala tonight, so change of plans.
Priya: You’re going. The wardrobe will be there in two hours. Hair and make up in three.
Priya: This is the perfect time for more exposure. The red carpet is at seven, so don’t be late.
I stared at the messages, my heart dropping my stomach.
Tonight?
Four hours until I had to walk a red carpet with cameras flashing and paparazzi shouting, and Zane Ashford pretending to be in love with me.
My phone buzzed one more time.
Priya: Oh, and Reeve? For the love of God, smile.
Priya: Remember, You’re in love with Zane Ashford.
I dropped the phone on the bed and pressed my hands against my face.
‘You’re in love with Zane Ashford.’ I hoped not.
But for the first time—
Hating Zane Ashford didn’t feel safe anymore.
- Writer
