Later that evening, Layla was in her bedroom reading a novel on her phone when her mother barged in without even bothering to knock. Typical of her mother.
"Mother," Layla drawled, not bothering to look up from her phone.
Since the day that she had the nerve to talk back at her mother, the hatred her mother has for her grew even bigger. But Layla couldn't care less.
Her mother stood by the door of her bedroom, her eyes wandering around the bedroom as if she was searching for something that was out of place.
"Didn't Sarah tell you that we are going to be having a family dinner?" She asked, now looking at Layla. Her nose now scrunched up as if something was smelling.
It must be her stinky attitude.
"She did," Layla deadpanned still not looking up.
"Then why are you not dressed? Or is your ass way too fat for you to drag off the bed?"
