Chapter 11.
A loud and constant ringing of my phone woke me up from my slumber. Groaning from exhaustion, I tried to reach for my cell which I could clearly remember was placed on the bedside table. My hands traced the surface, trying to find that damn thing. Unfortunately, I could feel nothing like my cell at all. The annoying shrill of “She's So Lovely” by Styff Dylans played through the air, getting to my last nerve.
“All right, all right, I'm awake now,” I growled at the phone and abruptly sat up on the bed reaching for the abandoned thing.
“Hello,” I snapped.
“LAURETTE AVERY SIMPSON!” shouted the voice from the other line.
“Daddy?” I gasped. Oh hell no, I was dead now.
“Who else?” he grunted. “Although in your case, I could be the reincarnation of Hitler.”
“I'm sorry daddy,” I whispered suddenly feeling like the whole idea of running off was juvenile. I could feel my heart trying to escape from my skin, as I waiting impatiently for his reply. I could tell he was angry. Angry wasn't even the precise word to use: he was furious. If I knew any better, he would definitely send a herd of men to drag me back to the kingdom again. Although my brain was begging to go back to my home again, my heart was telling me different. This was good for me, having this independence. It gave me a sense of freedom which I had always prayed for. Now that I had received it, I wasn't going to back down this quickly. If I could survive through this, then I could survive through anything.
“Laurette, this is extremely immature and not to mention rather irresponsible darling,” he sighed, I could picture him rubbing his forehead like he always did when filled with worry. “Where are you?”
I closed my eyes and allowed the unwanted tears to escape by. Hearing his saddened voice was the last straw. My father had always played both a motherly and a fatherly role in my life: he was the one I went to at night when I had nightmares: he was the one who checked my room for any monsters: he was the one who taught me to write and read: he was my everything. Never in this twenty three years had he made me grieve over not having a motherly figure. He could have remarried but he was still in love with her. It wasn't hard to tell that even after all these years my father still hadn't managed to erase my mother's love for him. I deeply wished that one day I could find a person like my father to love me. If only life was a fairytale.
“I can't say daddy, I'm sorry,” I sobbed unable to keep in my pain. “I miss you.”
“Come back to me then darling, I miss you too.”
“Daddy, you have to understand,” I spoke. “I am not ready to be married yet, especially to a man whom I have never encountered with. I am only twenty three, I can't possibly rule a whole country at this age. I want to though daddy, I want to govern England, but to do that I need more experience. Before I even have to think about the welfare of my people, I want to live my life: I want to be able to make my own mistakes and learn from them. I want to explore the outside world, not just the world behind the throne. Please daddy, please understand.”
My voice cracked and I knew I couldn't go any longer. I wish he could understand and help me go through this: I couldn't do this without my father's support and encouragement.
YOU ARE READING
His Fake Girlfriend.
Romance"I have a proposal for you, one which I know that you'll like." "Go on," she said. "I want you to be my fake girl friend, this way you'll also gain some experience." "Fine," she agreed. _-------_----_ -when princess Laurette agreed with her bestfr...
