Nana

Scrubbing the sinks of the restroom—Vivian's personal restroom—was no problem. Swallowing all her insults and ill mannerisms was still okay. Avoiding her to escape more tantrums was something I was doing quite well.

And I sure know it pisses her off every time I did as she ordered without uttering a single word of complaint.

Two days back, she had even made me stay on all fours, a perfect table for her morning breakfast. She stretched forth her legs on my back to rest.

I bit back the pain I felt, stopping my feet and hands from shaking. If there was one thing I learnt of the kinds of...