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"What are you doing here?"

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"What are you doing here?"



With your tongue sharpened, your words cut like daggers through their intended target - who despite your aggressive tone, seemed indifferent and unbothered.


"Now dear, is that anyway to speak to your father?" His smug aura radiated throughout the atmosphere, almost causing you to choke on it's overwhelming presence.


He reeked of overly expensive designer cologne, with his black, fitted suit tailored perfectly to his tall, muscular form and shiny golden Rolex that sat pretty on his wrist - always clean shaven in a professional manner, always dressed to impress. Those were his favorite words to live by.



"How did you - did you have someone track me?" You ask fervently, your voice threatening to break at the sight of him - sadly, this wasn't the first time he's used such a tactic.


If your relationship with your mother was bad, the one you had with your father was much worse.

If you could even call him that. 'Father' was a term held loosely by your standards. He was anything but that - always 'present' in your life but rarely ever there, spending more time away in the office or on business trips than spending time with you and your sister.

Dejected | R. SunaWhere stories live. Discover now