Chapter 9.
1195 Words
CHAPTER 9: Tears, Trash, and Truth.
Devon Drawson.
It was a beautiful Monday morning—the kind that usually smelled like productivity and power. Birds chirped in the distance, sunrays bounced off the windows, and a calm breeze drifted through the curtains.
Beautiful.
Except that I woke up one hour late.
“Crap!” I cursed, tossing off the covers like they were the enemy.
My phone buzzed violently on the bedside table, lighting up with multiple missed calls and messages from the office.
Secretary Sandra: Mr. Drawson, the 8 a.m. strategy meeting with the investors is in 45 minutes. Where are you?
Strategy meeting. Of course.
I dashed to the bathroom, brushing and bathing with the speed of a Formula 1 pit stop. Dressed in a crisp navy suit and tie—a bit wrinkled because I didn’t iron (sue me)—I bolted down the stairs two steps at a time.
"Dammy, we need to talk," Mum’s voice echoed through the hallway like a cautionary tale.
I froze.
“Good morning, Mum,” I greeted, pecking her cheek and attempting the ol’ slip-away.
"Dammy, we need to talk," she repeated, this time with her arms crossed.
I glanced at my Rolex. I had 30 minutes to get to the office and prep for the meeting.
“About what, Mum? I’m running late.”
“You have to get married.”
Time stopped.
My briefcase slid halfway off my shoulder.
“To whom would I get married to? I don’t even have a girlfriend, Mum.”
She arched her brows and leaned in with a smirk.
“Oh, you do have a girlfriend, Dammy. But I have someone else in mind. Someone I actually like.”
I blinked.
“Who? Gina?!”
She rolled her eyes so hard I swear I heard a crack.
“Hmmmmm... No. Gina is too timid. I want someone who can challenge you. Someone fierce. Someone... determined.”
She paused for dramatic effect, and then dropped the bomb.
“The baker. Marry the baker.”
My jaw did an Olympic-level drop.
“Miss Daunting Dream?!”
She’s fierce. Opinionated. Annoying. But she saw me when I didn’t even know I was lost.
“Yes. Dream. I love her. She’s hardworking, grounded, and she’s not like that gold-digging vulture you currently date. She baked my birthday cake, helped me with my diabetes episode, and she even gave me a reason to laugh.”
I stood there, stunned like a character in a K-drama.
“You don’t like Ivay, right Mum?”
Mum’s lips twitched.
“No. I don’t. She’s fake, rude, and she thinks I’m stupid. She pretends to care but can’t even boil water. I heard her call me a liability on the phone.”
My blood boiled. Liability?
“Okay, Mum. We’ll continue this conversation this evening. I have to go now—early morning meeting. I love you.”
“What about breakfast?”
“I’ll eat at the office, I promise.”
And with that, I flew out the door, still reeling from her last words.
---
At Drawson Enterprise.
I barely made it into the boardroom when the investors walked in.
“Mr. Drawson,” one of them greeted, eyeing me suspiciously.
“Good morning, gentlemen. Let’s get started.”
Halfway through the pitch, my brain betrayed me.
“Marry Miss Daunting Dream?”
The words haunted me like a ghost with a grudge. I stumbled over the slides, confusing our marketing strategy for a budgeting table. My secretary had to discreetly correct me with sticky notes.
After the meeting, I stormed into my office, loosened my tie, and collapsed into my chair.
“Dream Dauntson,” I muttered.
Was she really the one? Could she truly be the missing piece to my chaotic puzzle? She had guts—I’d give her that. No other woman had ever screamed at me in public, slapped icing on my face, or walked out on me during an argument.
Yet, she made my mum laugh. She saved her life. She stood out.
Unlike Ivay, who only stood in front of luxury mirrors.
Just then, a knock.
“Come in.”
Ivay entered, dressed like she was auditioning for a rich housewife reality show.
“Baby! I brought you lunch!” she cooed, holding up a takeout bag from that overpriced Asian place I hated.
“What are you doing here?” I gave her a dead stare.
“You remembered my least favorite restaurant. How… thoughtful.”
“Don’t be mean! I heard about the investors’ meeting. How did it go?”
“Messy. Like your morals.”
Her face fell.
“Excuse me?”
I stood.
“You called my mum a liability? And you cheated on me.”
She blinked.
“You were eavesdropping?!”
“No. She heard you.”
Ivay rolled her eyes.
“So? She’s old. It’s not like I meant it in a bad way.”
“Out.”
“What?!”
“Out of my office. Out of my life. I don’t date people who think love is transactional and the elderly are disposable.”
She dropped the lunch bag like it was a hot grenade.
“You’re dumping me? For some cheap baker?”
“Don’t insult her. Dream is ten times the woman you could ever pretend to be.”
Tears pooled in her eyes.
“You’ll regret this.”
“Not as much as I regret dating you.”
She stormed out, slamming the door so hard a painting fell off the wall. I sighed and sat back down.
Tears. Trash. Truth.
That was my day in a nutshell.
---
Later that evening, at home.
Mum was sipping tea on the patio.
“How was your day, Dammy?” she asked with a knowing smirk.
I sat beside her.
“I broke up with Ivay.”
“Good.”
“I didn’t do it because you told me to. I did it because… I finally saw her clearly.”
She patted my knee.
“Sometimes, it takes a strong woman to expose a weak one.”
I thought for a moment.
“Dream… she really helped you during your diabetic episode?”
Mum nodded.
“She noticed before even I did. She made me take a break, brought out the bottle of Metformin from my bag, and kept talking to distract me. She didn’t panic. She didn’t scream. She acted.”
I smiled to myself.
Daunting Dream.
Was it possible I had been looking in the wrong direction all this while?
Mum sipped her tea slowly.
“You know, when your father died, I prayed you’d find someone who wouldn’t love you because you’re rich, but because you’re you.”
I met her gaze.
“And you think that’s Dream?”
“I don’t think. I know.”
Truth.
Maybe love didn’t come wrapped in lace and luxury.
Maybe it came with flour on her nose, sarcasm in her smile, and the guts to call me out when I deserved it.
Maybe… it came in the form of Dream.
Maybe this wasn’t such a daunting dream after all.
- Writer
