Chapter 11: Towel
’You need to get a divorce no matter what. You can always start afresh afterward,’ Zara said over the phone while they were on a call. Patricia had spent the entire morning arranging her room and only took a break later in the afternoon. They had been talking for over an hour, with Patricia recounting everything that had happened over the past three days.
"I will, once he’s back," she responded, taking a deep breath as memories of the last few days washed over her. She hadn’t seen any of it coming, but given the way she grew up, she should have been used to life throwing tangerines at her.
’I will come visit tomorrow and bring your favorite snacks,’ Zara said, trying to cheer Patricia up.
The call ended, and Patricia felt the familiar weight of loneliness settle over her. Looking out the window, she realized it was nearly dinnertime and decided to take a shower. The fact that she was back in his house, and even living there was still hard to believe. Well, life is a mystery.
Judging by the silence, Roman was probably still at the hospital, so she figured she would eat downstairs alone which brought her joy.
She took off her clothes and stepped into the bathroom. After bathing, she began washing her hair when the water suddenly stopped running. She hummed in frustration, wondering what had gone wrong.
She reached for the tap, moving it up and down, but nothing came out. Panic began to rise. How could a wealthy man’s house run out of water? She couldn’t even remember the last time that had happened to her, maybe ten years ago, back when she and her mother lived in a worn-out house.
"Ahh!" She cried out as soap accidentally got into her eyes. Blinking furiously, she backed away from the tap and tried to find the towels.
With her eyes closed, she stretched out a hand, but instead of a towel, she knocked over a bottle. She cursed softly, fumbling around again. This time, her hand landed on a larger bottle, and she let out another frustrated cry.