Zia settled into the plush booth at Bistro Bliss, her go-to spot for celebrations. Perach, her best friend since college, already sat comfortably, sipping a glass of Pinot Grigio.
"Hey, girl!" Perach exclaimed, as Zia smiled warmly.
Their server, Ava, took their orders. Zia opted for her favorite dish, pan-seared salmon, while Perach chose the grilled filet mignon.
As they waited for their food, Perach dove into the latest updates on Zia's collaboration with Élan Fashion House. "So, how's the campaign going? Any juicy gossip?"
Zia leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's been amazing. The creative director, Marcus, is a genius. But the pressure's mounting. They want me to showcase their new collection at Fashion Week."
Perach's eyes widened. "That's huge! You'll rock it, Zia."
Their conversation flowed effortlessly, covering everything from Perach's latest romantic escapades to Zia's upcoming influencer events.
As their main courses arrived, Perach shifted the focus to Zia's love life. "So, when are you going to take the plunge? You're twenty-three, and stunning. What's holding you back from finding Mr. Right?"
Zia's cheeks flushed. "I don't know, Perach. I'm just focused on my career right now."
Perach raised an eyebrow. "Is that all? You're not secretly waiting for someone to sweep you off your feet?"
Zia's gaze sparkled with amusement. "Maybe a little."
As they savored their meals, Perach's curiosity lingered. "I swear, Zia, you're hiding something. You're always so guarded about your love life."
Zia laughed, attempting to deflect. "There's nothing to hide, Perach. I'm just focused on my career."
Perach's eyes narrowed. "I know you, Zia. You're not fooling me. You need to let loose and have some fun."
Just then, Zia's phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and rolled her eyes. "Mom."
Perach raised an eyebrow. "What does she want now?"
Zia sighed. "Probably to remind me about the charity gala tomorrow night. She's been breathing down my neck about it for weeks."
Perach sympathized. "Your mom can be a bit...much, sometimes."
Zia's expression turned wry. "That's an understatement. She still thinks I'm twelve years old, unable to make my own decisions."
Their conversation was interrupted by Ava, their server, refilling their drinks. As Ava departed, Perach leaned in.
"Zia, seriously, when are you going to stand up to your mom? You're twenty-three, for crying out loud! You should be making your own choices."
Zia's shoulders tensed. "It's not that easy, Perach. My mom...she's complicated. She wants the best for me, but sometimes her way isn't my way."
Perach's voice softened. "I get it. Family dynamics can be tough. But you need to establish boundaries, Zia. For your own sanity."
Zia nodded, her mind drifting to her mother's relentless expectations. Winter Axel, her mother, was a force to be reckoned with – a renowned businesswoman with a reputation for getting what she wanted, no matter the cost.
As they finished their meals and prepared to leave, Zia couldn't shake off the feeling that her mother's influence was suffocating her. Little did she know, Wynter Axel had already set plans in motion to ensure Zia's future aligned with her own vision.
As Zia stepped into her luxurious Manhattan penthouse, she knew she was in for an interrogation. Her mother, Winter Axel, stood in the foyer, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.
"Where have you been, Zia?" Winter demanded, her voice icy.
Zia sighed inwardly, anticipating the lecture. "Just out with Perach, Mom. We grabbed dinner at Bistro Bliss."
Winter's gaze intensified. "You didn't tell me you were going out. You know the rules, Zia. You're supposed to inform me before leaving."
Zia's frustration simmered. "Mom, I'm twenty-three years old. I can go out whenever I want. You can't keep treating me like a child."
Winter's expression turned stern. "You're my child, Zia, and I'll always worry about your safety. Your father's...absence has made me even more cautious."
Zia's anger flared. "That's not fair, Mom. You always bring up Dad, but you never let me live my own life."
Winter's voice rose. "I'm doing this for your own good, Zia. You're naive and impressionable. You need guidance."
The argument escalated until Zia, fed up, spun on her heel and marched toward her room.
"I'm old enough to make my own decisions, Mom!" she declared, slamming the door shut behind her.
The sound echoed through the penthouse, leaving Winter standing alone, her expression a mix of concern and determination.
Zia leaned against her door, her heart racing. Why couldn't her mother trust her? Tears of frustration pricked at the corners of her eyes as she locked the door, ensuring her mother wouldn't barge in.
In the silence of her room, Zia's thoughts swirled. She longed for freedom, for the chance to make her own choices without her mother's suffocating control.
Zia took a deep breath, calming herself down after the argument with her mother. She decided to spend the rest of the night in her room, away from Winter's prying eyes and critical words.
She stepped into her en-suite bathroom and turned on the shower, letting the warm water soothe her frazzled nerves. As she washed away her frustration, she made a mental note to summon the housekeeper, Mrs. Jenkins, for dinner.
Wrapped in a plush robe, Zia returned to her bedroom and dialed Mrs. Jenkins' extension. "Hi, Mrs. Jenkins. Could you please bring me dinner in my room tonight? I'm not feeling up to going downstairs."
"Of course, Miss Zia," Mrs. Jenkins replied warmly. "I'll bring your favorite dish, chicken parmesan. Would you like anything else?"
"Just water, thank you," Zia said, settling onto her bed.
Mrs. Jenkins arrived shortly, setting up a tray with Zia's dinner. Zia ate in silence, lost in thought.
After finishing her meal, Zia buzzed Mrs. Jenkins to collect the tray and take out the trash. As the housekeeper left, Zia snuggled under her blankets, ready to escape into sleep.
Just as she drifted off, her phone buzzed on the nightstand. She reached over to silence it, but saw Cordelia's name flashing on the screen.
Zia's curiosity got the better of her. She answered, "Hey, Cordelia. What's up?"
Cordelia's voice was laced with worry. "Zia, I need your advice. I've been having issues with my boyfriend, Ryder. He's been distant lately, and I don't know what's going on."
Zia sat up, concerned. "What makes you think something's wrong?"
Cordelia sighed. "He's been canceling plans at the last minute, and when we do talk, he seems preoccupied. I'm starting to think he's losing interest."
Zia listened attentively, offering words of encouragement. "Maybe he's just stressed with work or something. Have you talked to him about how you're feeling?"
Cordelia hesitated. "I tried, but he just brushes it off. I don't know what to do, Zia."
As Zia offered her support and advice, she felt grateful for the distraction from her own troubles with her mother.
Their conversation continued until Cordelia felt better, thanking Zia for listening.
As they said their goodbyes, Zia settled back into bed, her mind still racing with thoughts of Cordelia's problems and her own.
The darkness outside seemed to press in, but Zia felt a sense of peace wash over her. She knew tomorrow would bring new challenges, but for now, she could rest.