My Husband, My Tormentor
I never imagined my life would take such a sharp turn. Everything seemed to be going well-I had escaped from my past to start fresh in a new country, a new city.
But he ruined those plans.
His entry into my life was unexpec...
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"Ana, enough for today!" whined Florence.
I looked up and smiled at her.
Seated in the chair opposite me, Florence scowled and folded her arms. Florence Astrin, the tall, blonde, is the "mom" of our group-especially when it came to me. I was usually so focused on work that I'd forget about things like, you know, eating. But Florence never let that slide. She'd make sure I finished every last bite.
"Guys, let's go to a club tonight!" Cleo chirped, popping into the seat beside Florence. Cleo Calan was the party animal of our group-a lively soul with striking gray hair and an enviable figure.
"Why? So you can hang out with your boyfriend and have fun with him?" Florence teased, causing Cleo to blush. Cleo's longtime boyfriend, Dane, was the fourth member of our group and our unofficial protector.
It's been eight months since I came to Moscow, the beautiful city of Russia, to start a new life with my younger sister, Rhea. After a long job hunt, I finally landed a position as a graphic designer at a reputed software company called Plash. The job paid well enough for me to support both myself and Rhea, who's studying at Moscow State University.
Rhea, Florence, Cleo, and I share a spacious 4-bedroom apartment. Dane lives in the same building, two floors above us. He works at a different company, and like Florence and Cleo, whose families live in Italy, he has his own story-Dane grew up in an orphanage and has been on his own since he turned eighteen.
"That's enough!" Florence suddenly snapped, shutting my laptop. I sighed but packed up my things, heading out of the office.
Florence climbed into the driver's seat of her Lada Vesta, while I took the passenger side and Cleo hopped in the back.
"Guys, I'm not even dressed for the club," I complained, earning a dramatic side-eye from Florence.
"Not a word, Ana! You look perfect," Cleo chimed in from the backseat. I glanced down at my outfit-a black, half-shoulder jumpsuit with matching heels. Okay, maybe I was club-ready.
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