VOTE  & COMMENT

ACT 1

PERFECTION IS A PRIZE

"Perfection is like a trophy placed too high on a shelf out of reach from one's grasp"

The brunette wonder had perfectly landed her triple axel as she slowed down panting as she leant against the silver railing, as she sipped her water like she had spent days in the Sahara desert.

Alina Barchbonskinova rhythmically tapped her fingers on the railing as she analysed her student wearing a short black midriff and black leggings, tilting her head she then tutted as she walked towards her pupil.

"You've gained weight Talia," she uttered in Russian as Talia tired looked up at her, "I can smell it, how many times have I told you carbs is off-limits when the season starts. Where is your elegance?! Noh? You are goose instead of a swan,".

"Well, it's kind of hard when you have a family with its culture having rice as the staple food. Chinese New year, I only had one small bowl of rice and spring rolls," she interjected at the stern-looking woman, wondering whether if her coach's head was ever going to explode from her bun being tied so tight and not a single hair out of place.

"I don't care. When I was younger I wouldn't even dream having a single grain of rice," she piqued, "I want your weight to drop, by end of this week you better be nothing heavier than forty-five kilos*," as Talia's eyes widened

*(or in pounds 99)

"But my usual is forty-eight for comps!" she argued.

"Forty-eight is the new sixty, forty-five the new fifty," she waved off, "I want that triple axel to be a quadruple, and the double flip to a triple," as she went to sit back down as she then clapped.

"Again!" her voice boomed as Talia only mentally groaned as she went back onto the ice.

---

Mikhail Kadamiskiynov was the immaculate embodiment of perfect, and he knew it. He had the perfect life dawning from a superb line of wealth that stemmed all the way back to over three hundred years, personality, gentlemen, inordinately good looks that made him far beyond then a greek god or a Calvin Klein model, fortune and future, friends from esteemed families, girlfriend and soon to be a wife who would never dare or ever thought to go behind his back to what he knew; and he wanted all of this to remain as it was.

He looked down at the tap as he then turned the tap on cold as he precisely put his hands under the water then methodically put soapy liquid as he washed it under the tap, two he had repeated this step a second time, then a third, and lastly doing it for the fourth time again. Approving his hands he dried his hands with the back of the hand cloth seated next to the vanity as he made his way out of the washroom and back to the small dining room, as he was seated on the chair.

He looked out at the snow falling outside and softly smiled at the thought of Talia.

Talia loved the snow.

He looked further out, to catch a small glimpse of the frozen lake behind the hedge powered in snow, she would skate so dexterously across the ice.

"Master Mikhail," his longtime servant Igor said as he gave him a soft smile.

"Igor," he nodded approvingly.

"How was the work?" he asked referring to his lessons with his tutors flown in from Cambridge.

"Everything was fine, work was successful. What's next again?"

"Well you only have a work meeting with your father that's later on today, would you like me to schedule a massage in an hour? You have a lot of time, also adding on you have a volleyball training tomorrow with your team," he informed.

"Oh, yes thank you. Anything else?"

"Oh, yes you've got a text message from Talia younger brother Calix, he's asked you a question about his history. I believe something regarding world war one," he recounted.

"Tell him to ask right away," he smiled.

"Tea I presume?"

"Yes, Igor, that would be lovely,"

---

"oooohhhh-yeeee, ow!" Talia let out as her Australian physical therapist, Lian was massaging between her shoulder blades, as the brunette was lying on her stomach indolently.

"Talia, what did I tell you about your exercises for your back, and you've been curling up when your sleeping again haven't you?" the brunette woman sighed as she moved her fingers down her spine as Talia groaned tiredly.

"I'm sorry I forgo- ow! Right there, I've been trying to crack that for the past week!" Talia groaned as her half-lidded eyes fluttered as another crack was heard.

"You shouldn't negligent your back, you don't want to end up as Quasimodo do you now?" she asked as Talia had missed her calming Australian accent to which she had a slight influence on.

"Mhmm," Talia tiredly agreed not wanting to fight back as she felt the oil on her back being rubbed as tranquil was blanketing her... yet it all had crashed down when a notification from her phone buzzed.

"Miss Talia-,"

"Ignore it," she dismissed as another chain of vibrations came from her phone as Talia glared at the device.

"Lian, can you please get my phone please and pass it to me," she asked nicely as the woman nodded as she retrieved the device on the side desk as she gave it to her.

Putting against her ear Talia not bothering to look at who was calling pressed the button, "What is it?!" she chided

"apologies Lady Talia, but it's rather urgent," she heard Igor spoke as she calmed herself, "Master Mikhail has one of his... attacks again. I believe you need to come here urgent,"

"Of course," Talia got up holding the towel around her breasts as she ended the call.

"Is everything alright miss?"

"I apologise, Lian, perhaps we have to reschedule. I'll still pay you as per usual for the visit, I have a diplomatic situation on my hands right now," she got up as she entered the change room.

---

Mila Vanderhaden scrolled through the gossip columns of New York's elites, which unsurprisingly centred around the young socialites of the city.

"What you looking at?" Gianna, the Italian brunette sitting at the bay window corner of her friend's room on her laptop.

"the imbeciles of wh0res and a$seholes," she replied in a monotonous tone.

Along with her, Talia and the rest of the group called the American billionaire kids who attended the renowned Wentworth Academy (WA) as Wh0res and A$sholes, due to their stuck up nature and endless feed of ending up in the gossip and news of their daily activities to the world.

"Which one is it, wh0re or a$shole?" Gianna asked.

"None other than the sl*t queen herself, Verena von Huxley," Mila said in a ridiculous tone that made her friend laugh.

"What now?"

"Ahem," Mila pretended to clear her throat, "The queen socialite herself Verena von Huxley, daughter of the richest man in the world-, pff bloody journalists as if!- Herald von Huxley and heiress to the multi-billionaire dollar company Huxley Enterprises; struts her stuff down the Lanhaster charity ball, the epitome of grace of beauty- more like sl*t and b*tchiness is seen in a Gucci -ugh! She needs to get informed that Gucci has and never will appear in the Haute couture runway- a black tube dress with a revealing slit up to her thigh and a plunging neckline -it's a charity ball you moron, not a club you harlot!," as Gianna snorted at her friend's lambasted remarks.

"When she walked up to our journalist -attention-seeking wh0re- and we asked her what she was wearing the future queen of Manhattan -oh please, America is messed up now cause they broke away from the monarchy- simply replied about her Gucci gown and her countless jewellery she was drenched in. What a fashion icon," Mila rebuked at the last statement as Gianna looked further down the paragraph.

"Ew, she's not even wearing Graff, and is that-, oh my god she overdid the jewellery, what is she a disco ball? Ew, ew, ew she's wearing Gucci earrings, puke! Cartier, the newest collection? None of them are even vintage, not even 1970s, god. And those rings, Tiffany?! Those rocks are all fake I know it," she scrutinized the photo.

"No, they're real, but they're synthetically treated a lot. I bet the number of diamonds around it got the price up. Such a waste of money," Mila added as she scrolled down to see a photo of Verena and her acclaimed boyfriend, Lucien Lanhaster.

"I got to say the tux design is really nice," Gianna stated, looking at the photo.

"But the designer could have been better though," Mila replied as she looked at the photo, "The way he's holding her is just bloody screaming they're gonna snog straight after the event," she snickered as Gianna's phone buzzed as she glanced at the phone.

"Whatsup?" Mila raised a brow.

"Fine, I'll see you later or tomorrow," Gianna waved as she exited the room quite suddenly.

"Okay..."

---

After the three and a half hour flight, Talia was welcomed into the manor without hesitation as Igor had fast-pacing walked to the female.

"Lady Talia," he quickly bowed as she had a mid- worried look on her face.

"Where is he?" she asked.

"In his room, with Dr Anpliyev," he informed as Talia quickly rushed upstairs on the third floor, making her way down the chandelier-lit halls as she slowly twisted the golden doorknob, walking in around the corner with glossy wood floorboards stretching out to the room's Elizabthelian baroque interior design, within the centre back rested Mikhail's large four-posted gold and scarlet bed with a red antique rug lying monotonously in front, four golden arches on each side spaciously stemming high up to the ceiling with golden embroided patterns decorated along the edges, and in the centre of the ceiling hanging gold and crystal cut chandelier.

The platinum-haired male was found sitting on the edge of his bed in a panicking matter, holding the hands of his female doctor who was kneeling in front of him.

"It's alright, see, remember breathe," she assured in a honeyed tone.

"I-I can't, please! Just one more time!" he begged as tears streamed down his cheeks.

"It's alright- relax your fingers, n-no don't curl them up. It's alright," she gently rubbed her finger on his hand trying to calm him.

"But I did it three times, I just need to do it one more time please," he sniffed wiping his tears quickly as he took a deep breath.

"It's okay, It's okay-, Look it's Talia! See she's here," the ebony-haired woman smiled gazing at Talia as Mikhail looked to the side and seemed to look a little calmer. Instantly, Talia had sped to his side as she sat beside him and instinctively wrapped her arms around him, rubbing circles around his back as she felt the tears drop on her shirt.

"I'm here, I'm here. See nothing happened," Talia heartened as Mikhail had tightened his grip around her waist, missing her Queen's British-Australian mixed accent.

"I didn't do it four-, I didn't then-, then she came and I told her-, b-but she wouldn't let me," he cried as Talia smiled at the female doctor.

"I'm fine Misha, see I'm all safe, nothing happened just like Doctor Anpliyev said," she smiled as she kissed his forehead.

"B-but I didn't do it four times. And something could have happened to you,"

"I'm alright, I'm alright. You're doing so well Misha. I love you so much, I'm so proud dear," she put her face on top of his platinum locks as she gave a little wave to Dr Anpliyev as she walked out.

For a moment for silence, they had stayed in the position for some time, something that Talia was too caught up in the moment to keep track of.

"Let's lay down," she suggested as Mikhail silently followed as they shifted position to Mikhail lying down in his side and Talia grabbing her AirPods from her pocket whilst in her other hand taking off her glasses as she put them on the table as she put on AirPod in Mikhail's left ear and the other one on her right.

The Singlish-Filipino-British female engulfed her boyfriend in her arms, as Mikhail's face rested in the crook of her neck as Talia played Rain (piano and violin) on her phone as she slowly closed her eyes.

---

Mikhail's agate eyes languidly opened as his vision cleared, rising from his silk duvet sitting up straight he looked to the side to find Talia's body gone yet the imprinted shape of her still there warm, and further on the table beside the bed her glasses folded as it rested next to the lamp.

On the other side of the door, Talia holding a piece of cake in one hand she had got from the private chef Bogdan and on her other hand, her phone put next to her ear as she heard the chain of argument from her mother.

"Why did you just leave school all of a sudden young lady?" her mother chided in her native tongue.

"I told you I can't tell you, it was urgent," she sighed.

No one besides her, Pytor and Mikhail's mother knew of Mikhail's condition and had kept it secret believing it was only his right to tell.

"Don't give me attitude young lady!"

'I didn't even say anything!' Talia mouthed as wanted to smash the phone against the wall but just firmly choked the device in hand.

"Mum, I didn't-," she said calmly but was interrupted.

"Don't answer back!" as Talia rolled her eyes, she was now further reminded of how much she loved marrying Mikhail's family and living and studying abroad.

"I've got to go, bye mum," she nonchalantly said as she hung the phone up.

"Don't-,"

Talia put back her phone in the pocket of her sweatpants as she opened the door with her back, as she glided in she smiled to see Mikhail awake.

"Your up dear," she said as she walked to the bed, placing the plate delicately on the table as she kissed his cheek.

"Mhmm," he nodded as he wrapped his arms around her as Mikhail only peppered kisses on her neck making her chuckle.

"Feel better?"

"I am now," he looked up, "What did you get?" he tilted his head to the side as pivoted and grabbed the plate.

"mevodik*" she replied as he looked at the delicate slice of one of his favourite Russian pastries.

*a traditional Honeyed layered cake which also consists of condensed milk and smetana.

"thank you-," he attempted to grab the plate as Talia smacked his hand away.

"No eating on the bed," as he pouted, "Galina so got angry with us last time," as he shuddered at his governor's long rant.

"Point taken," he nodded as they moved off the bed.

________



- MEN CAN BE WEAK TOO

SO DID I GET THE FILIPINO MUM/MOM THING RIGHT?! Comment, please!

Sorry for the short chapter!