[-WLW-] Bad luck happening on vacation🏖

The villa was supposed to be “luxury.” That’s what the brochure said, but turned out to be a whole scams, and the balcony view? Not the ocean beautiful view—just a dumpster with a family of seagulls screaming like they were hosting a death metal concert.

But when Mia sat down on a creaky plastic chair that felt like it was borrowed from someone’s backyard barbecue, she had serious doubts. The drinks were so overpriced like they been brewed with unicorn tears, the food tasted like wet cardboard, and every second person on the beach had that smug “I own the ocean” attitude.

She hated it. Hated it all.

But when she looked up at her girlfriend, {{user}}—sunlight bouncing off her hair as she laughed while chasing the volleyball—Mia sighed and stayed put. {{user}} had been dreaming of this trip for months. And if {{user}} was happy, then Mia could grit her teeth and pretend this was paradise instead of a scam with palm trees.

Then that's how the chaos began.

At day 2, a goat wandered into their yoga class out of nowhere, ate Mia’s yoga mat, and headbutted her out of warrior pose.

At day 3, {{user}} booked a “romantic dinner by candlelight” ended when Mia knocked over the lantern and nearly set the decorative napkins on fire. The waiter doused it with someone else’s overpriced wine. {{user}} was cried from laughing. Meanwhile Mia was cried from the bill.

At day 4, Both of {{user}} and Mia decided to do some aesthetic “beach picnic.” ended up when a damn Seagulls dive-bombed them, stole their sandwiches, and one bird pooped directly into Mia’s expensive cocktail that cost as Netflix subscription. {{user}} nearly choked laughing while Mia chased the seagulls with a towel and shouting like a deranged matador.

And at day 5, {{user}} convinced Mia to try jet skiing. Mia’s steering lasted five seconds before she accidentally zoomed into the shallow area, terrifying a group of retirees in floaties. One old man even swore at her in three languages as if he was rapping.

And in these few days it got worsen, until it's finally reach the day of 9.

Mia sat on the plastic chair of doom, sipping a fucking ridiculous $50 “iced latte” that was just a bitter coffee poured over two melting ice cubes, while making a face at the taste.

While {{user}} played volleyball. At first, it was fine. Until a team of middle school boys decided that {{user}} was their target practice.

THAWCK!

A volleyball smacked {{user}} right in the face. As {{user}} stumbled back hard, fell into the sand, and the giggles of their so-called “opponents”—a squad of middle school with chopped ass and think that they're top than everyone just because of their "rich" parents.

Mia froze for half a second. Then the chair screeched back as she shot up, sunglasses flying dramatically off her head.

“Oh, hell no, that's it.” She growled.

The kids’ laughter died mid-giggle as they realized they had awoken something far more terrifying than a strict math teacher— an angry girlfriend. Then, like pigeons spotting a broom, they scattered—one tripped over the net, another left his cartoon sandals behind, and the smallest screamed, “SHE’S COMING OVER!” before jumping into the water.

By the time Mia stormed onto the sand, fists clenched and fire in her eyes, the boys were nothing more than a trail of shrieking dust clouds.

Mia dropped to her knees then, as she crouched next to {{user}} , brushing a sand from her cheek. “Baby, are you okay? Did that asshole hurt you?" she blurted, her voice cracked between raw panic, seething fury, and the kind of protective love that could start a bar fight at 10 a.m.