e depth of that statement. However, as I drove through the winding roads flanked by tall cypress t

our days daydreaming about things beyond our reach, sometimes overlooking what we already have.

n. Home wasn't a viable choice either. So, the day before my journey, I pulled out

firm, conveyed surprise. Our family was deeply rooted in business, and t

quickly mentioned staying at his apartme

ter, and he loves me the most. The song "I don't need Nobody to love" p

houghts revolved around fantasies of love. I spent hours imagining the person I would f

. Over time, I went through various phases of love and relationships, bot

ture decisions made during our teenage years. I, however, brushed off her advice, finding it dull. I c

ents. Looking back now, I regret that mindset. We all go through such phases, mak

the day I decided to leave home for a live-i

're accustomed to. He's skint. You'll regret i

house that was no longer mine. The walls, adorned with tapestries, held tales of my childhood and the moments I had spent there. I cared little, slamming the door behind me a

. Dillon didn't possess the wealth my dad had. His generations couldn't

rossed my mind, and Dad ensured it became a reality. I recall mentioning to Myria, our maid, that I wanted a sma

with a silver spoon in my mouth, having grown accustomed to a life filled with luxuries and comfort. But one da

a life far removed from the opulence I was used to, unable even to afford three square meals a day. The stark c

ome of wealth and success, couldn't understand my decision. The grandeur of our lifestyle, the luxurie

n logic. As I navigated through this new chapter, leaving behind the cocoon of privilege, I wondered if the s

of my childhood home was more challenging than I had anticipated. The quaint apartment Dillon and

f being surrounded by opulence; instead, the ordinary and mundane became my new compa

with sincerity. Whether it was a homemade dinner, a handpicked wildflower, or a shared laugh over a borrowed movie, these