Spoilt Princess Reincarnate As a Waitress

Alexia's POV

Okay, I get it. I know what you're thinking. "Alexia, you're drowning in debt, jobless, and living with a drunken mother. Shouldn't you just grab the rich guy's lifeline?"

Yeah, well, no.

Sure, poverty's throwing a grand old party at my expense right now. It's got streamers, balloons, and a big "Welcome, Loser!" banner just for me. But to marry a self-centered, impossible jerk to escape it? That's a hard nope.

I mean, seriously, what kind of idiot does he take me for? Did he think I was one of those desperate, gold-digging bimbos who would hear the word marriage and fall at his feet? Please.

Even with my empty wallet, leaky apartment, and diet of instant noodles and self-loathing, I still had my dignity.

I stormed away without sparing a backward glance. Stupid rich jerk. Stupid luxury car. Stupid filthy money.

Okay, yeah, I know—I'm being a little ironic here. Poverty and I are basically roommates at this point, and I could definitely use some of that "filthy money." But marry a self-centered, impossible jerk just to escape my miserable life? That's a hard no.

I might be desperate, but I refuse to sell my soul for a gold-plated cage.

As the rain drizzled on, soaking me to the bone, my thoughts spiraled. Who does he think he is, anyway? Barging into my life, tossing his money around like it's Monopoly cash, and expecting me to jump at his ridiculous proposal. What am I, some gullible gold digger he can tempt and then laugh at while dropping me like yesterday's trash?

Hell no.

And another thing—what's his angle, anyway? Why would he even want to marry me? I'm broke, unemployed, and clearly not the type to swoon at his wealth. Did he think I was dumb enough to fall for some ulterior motive? Maybe he's a ritual freak or a weirdo who needs a trophy wife for appearances. Whatever it is, I'm not interested.

Even though I'm drenched, jobless, and sitting at a bus stop while the rain taps out a sad rhythm on the roof, I still have my dignity. It might be all I have left, but it's mine, and I'm not trading it for anything—not even to escape the endless misery that is my life right now.

So here I am, sitting on a cold, damp bench, the drizzle refusing to let up, trying to convince myself that I made the right call.

I glance at the soaked bus schedule, though I don't really need it. I've been job hunting all day, and it feels like I've been on every bus route in town. I've walked into every café, store, and office I could find, only to be met with the same polite (and sometimes not-so-polite) rejection: "We're not hiring right now."

Why does it feel like the universe has a personal vendetta against me? I mean, was being reincarnated into poverty not punishment enough?

A group of teenagers pass by, laughing and sharing an umbrella that looks too small for all of them. I watch them enviously, wishing I had even a scrap of their carefree energy.

I glance at my phone. No new notifications. Of course. The universe has been delightfully silent, offering no breaks, no miracles.

I sigh, leaning back against the cold bench, my drenched hair plastered to my forehead. Maybe I should just give up and go home. Not that "home" is much better—a falling-apart apartment with a drunken mother and the looming threat of eviction.

But at least it's dry.

After trudging through the rain and asking around for jobs until my throat was raw from repeating the same damn question—Are you hiring?—I finally gave up. The drizzle had stopped, leaving behind puddles and muddy sidewalks, and I was wet, cold, and absolutely done with the world.

"Fuck the dump weather. Fuck the stupid people. Gosh, I fucking hate everything!" I muttered under my breath as I shuffled towards the bus stop again.

Yeah, I know—I'm radiating some serious negative energy right now. But can you blame me? It feels like the entire universe is out to make my life a living hell. I'm miserable, broke, and soaked to the bone.

What I need is ice cream and a hot shower.

The thought of it almost brings a smile to my face. Sweet, creamy bliss melting on my tongue and washing away my bitterness. Followed by a long, steamy shower to thaw out my frozen limbs and soothe my aching soul.

But reality hits me like a slap in the face.

If I buy ice cream, I'll ruin my stupid budget. And as for a hot shower? Yeah, that's a luxury I can't afford right now. The last time I cranked up the water heater, the electricity bill nearly gave me a heart attack. I'm not ready to see another horror show when the bill comes around.

How low I've fallen.

Once upon a time, I could have anything I wanted—a palace full of maids to cater to my every whim, a wardrobe full of the finest silks and jewels, banquets with enough food to feed an entire kingdom. And now? I'm standing in wet, squelchy shoes, debating whether a $2 tub of ice cream is worth risking my entire survival strategy.

Life really knows how to humble a girl.

With a resigned sigh, I turned my back on the convenience store where the ice cream taunted me from the freezer section and started the long walk home. At least I wouldn't have to deal with people anymore. Not that "home" was much better—it was more like a sad reminder of everything I'd lost.

As I walked, my stomach growled, and I mentally calculated what I could make with the scraps left in my fridge. Probably toast. Again.

And as for the shower? Guess it's back to cold water and pretending it's a spa treatment.

And that's exactly what I did.

I found Brenda—well, I found her—long gone. Out of the house, as usual. Who knows where she went this time? Probably to drown her sorrows somewhere, or maybe to find another round of booze to guzzle down. I couldn't be bothered to care.

What else could I do? I've learned the hard way that when it comes to her, there's no point in worrying. She's a lost cause. A sinking ship that I'd never be able to save, even if I tried.

I sighed, dropped my bag on the floor, and collapsed onto the couch. The smell of old, stale air and the faint scent of burnt toast filled my nose—an all-too-familiar fragrance that should be comforting but only made me more miserable.

Today was just another reminder of how far I'd fallen.

I stretched out, staring at the cracked ceiling above me, and for a moment, I just let my mind wander. Every bit of progress I had hoped for seemed so far out of reach. Job after job turned me away, my pockets stayed empty, and even the little victories, like finding an old friend in the rain or almost getting that damn ice cream, felt meaningless.

The weight of it all started to settle in, a crushing sense of defeat that made my eyelids heavy. 

Sleep, sweet and merciless, came for me quickly. I didn't even try to fight it.

I sunk into the tired, bitter haze of exhaustion that wrapped itself around me like a blanket. My body ached, my mind was foggy, and for the first time in a long while, I felt a small measure of relief.

Today was over. And tomorrow? Tomorrow was too far away to worry about.