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Suddenly, the words came out of my mouth in a weak voice:

"Dad, I was on my way home, but..."

But before I could finish my sentence, I found my father had moved in front of the car, and was shouting at the strange man:

"Who are you? And why were you with my daughter?"

I closed my eyes, and I began to feel ashamed, and shame was sweeping over me like a torrent. I couldn't bear the curious and surprised looks from passersby or from their eyes. I felt like the ground was going to swallow me.

Then Ramsay's father got out of the car. He was standing tall, which made him look even taller than my father. His build was good, and his elegant clothes gave him a strong appearance. He looked at my father with a cold and calm gaze, as if everything around him was absolutely calm.

He said, in a calm but firm voice: "Our new neighbor seems to be very emotional..."

Ramsay's father's gaze was stern and fixed on my father, at that moment I felt something strange, something I had never known before. I had always thought of my father as the one who imposed his authority on everyone, the one who people feared. But now, in front of this man, I saw my father lose that authority that I thought was an integral part of him. I felt like I was seeing my father in a new way, as if this man had revealed a weakness I had not realized.

Ramsay's father spoke in a rough, serious voice, as if his words carried more weight than a casual conversation:

"Do you think I'm a teenager who would drive around with a minor in my car?"

His eyes were fixed on my father in a way that could not be ignored. I saw the anger rising in my father's eyes, as he angrily replied:

"Who are you?"

At that moment, Ramsay quickly got out of the car and headed towards us, and I also quickly walked towards my father, trying to calm him down before the situation turned into a disaster.

I ran towards him, grabbed his arm, and said in a low voice:

"Dad, let's go..."

But instead of calming down, he pushed me away angrily, shouting at me savagely:

"Leave me, bitch!"

I fell to the ground and felt shocked. At that moment, I heard Ramsay's footsteps running towards me.

"Raquela...!" I shouted, and reached out to help me up.

As I raised my head, my tears started to fall. I looked towards Ramsay's father, and saw him staring at me with extreme anger. It was clear that he was angry with my father, but I was afraid of what he might do. I looked at him and slowly raised my head, shaking my head as if to say to him: "Please, don't do anything."

My father always loved to make a big deal out of things and cause trouble for the slightest reason.

.

He never missed an opportunity to get into a fight, and this situation suited him very well. He shouted at Ramsay's father in a loud voice, as if his voice alone was a weapon:

"How dare you carry my daughter in your car, man?!"

I saw Ramsay's father's hand tighten into his fist, and his features gradually turned into suppressed anger, as if he was trying not to explode. He answered with a tone of anger underneath, as if his words were filled with negative energy:

"Your daughter is my daughter's friend at school... Sir, so I said it's okay to take her."

Ramsay's hand was holding mine, I felt her fear, and I was also extremely nervous. I didn't know how this confrontation would end.

Suddenly, my father shouted again, and this time he was more intense:

"Doesn't she have a father, you damned one? What does it have to do with you?!"

When he said "damned one", I felt that the word was like an arrow that hit Ramsay's father's heart directly. I looked at him, and I saw that his features had become more angry, as if that word had deeply affected him.

Ramsay's father approached my father with steady steps, and I was behind my father, trembling and trying to send him a signal with my head warning him not to escalate. But Ramsay's father did not hesitate, he grabbed my father's arm tightly and brought him towards him, then whispered something in his ear, I didn't hear it, but the way he whispered was full of malice and evil.

At that moment, I felt something unfamiliar. For the first time, I saw that my father did not resist someone when he touched him. He had always been strong and dominant, but now... he was different.

Suddenly, Ramsay's father moved away from my father's ear, looked at me, and saw the slight wound on my leg caused by my father's push. His eyes did not leave me as he said:

"Ramsay..."

"Yes, father..."

"To the car."

Ramsay quickly ran towards the car and got in, while her father followed her without looking back.

As for my father, he remained still in his place, frozen as if time had stopped. I was trembling with fear, because I knew that after this situation, his anger would inevitably be directed at me.

I turned towards my father, and I saw his eyes wide with shock, and he began walking towards me with slow steps, and a strange smile drawn on his face.

I closed my eyes and hugged my bag between my arms, ready to receive his punch. I was waiting for the moment that would rain down on me, but... instead, I heard his footsteps approaching, then... moving away.

I slowly opened my eyes, and looked to see my father heading towards the door of the house with strange calm. The features of shock were still on his face, but he did not say anything.

I was stunned. What could Ramsay's father have said to him to make him change this way?

I watched my father enter the house with strange calm, and I followed him with heavy steps. My mother was waiting for us at the door, smiling as usual when we returned, as if she was waiting for something happy. But as soon as she saw my father's shocked and tense features, her smile quickly faded. I felt confused. Even I did not understand this unusual calm from my father. What did Ramsay's father say to him to make him act this way?

We entered the house and my father sat directly on the sofa, as if he was carrying a great burden on his shoulders. My mother raised her eyebrows in concern and asked,

"Oh my God, what's wrong with you?"

I was hesitant at first, not knowing if I should tell her about the fight or what happened outside. But I decided to check if she had heard anything.

I said hesitantly, "Didn't you hear anything?"

She shook her head and said with a smile as she pointed to the kitchen,

"I was listening to the radio and making pancakes and foreign food."

I frowned in surprise. My mother didn't usually cook foreign food, so I asked her in surprise:

"On what occasion? It's not your habit to cook foreign food."

"I invited Miss Alia to dinner today, her and her little family," my mother said as she headed towards the kitchen. .

I paused for a moment, confused, and asked questioningly, "Miss…? Alia?"

My mother nodded as she took the cake out of the oven and continued,

"Hmm… yes, Alia. It seems we've become friends. You know, Raquel, she told me she has a daughter in the same class as you, so we could be friends."

I felt like I had received a slight shock. I opened my mouth slightly as if I was beginning to understand, and soon realized that she was talking about the Ramsay family.

"How so? Did you meet her by chance or something?" I asked anxiously.

"Nnn… I visited her at their house. She was nice to me. No problem, go get ready for the evening."

I nodded in understanding, then clapped my hands cheerfully, excited for an evening that seemed full of surprises. I headed towards the stairs, but before I went up, I took a quick look at my father. He was still sitting in his place, lost in thought as if something heavy was occupying his mind. I continued towards the room, but the ghost of anxiety did not leave me, as today's events were more complicated than I expected.

I quickly closed the door to my room, then ran towards the computer. I turned off the light and opened the window to feel the night breeze blowing on my face, then sat on the bed with my computer in my hands. That was one of the moments I enjoyed, as I found my comfort in the dark, and allowed my imagination to roam my stories. I always loved writing in this quiet atmosphere, as I could recall the details of my day and document them to use in my novels later.

I started writing down everything that happened to me today. Moment by moment, I recalled the events that happened with Ramsay and her father, especially those strange situations that never leave my memory. Unconsciously, I started focusing on describing Ramsay's father's personality. There was something attractive about his strength and silence, despite the fear I felt towards him. I started writing down those details carefully; his firm personality, his piercing gaze, and the way he handled the situation. I felt that this character would become my future heroine in one of my novels, perhaps because he represented a strange mixture of fear and amazement.

Time passed without me noticing, and suddenly I found myself asleep again, my face leaning on the computer. As always happens, when I start writing, I find myself falling asleep on the keyboard. I quickly wiped my saliva and slowly began to realize where I was, then suddenly regained my senses when I remembered dinner. I grabbed my phone to check the time, and the surprise was: nine o'clock in the evening.

"Damn!" I said in an internal voice.

I quickly got up and ran towards my room door. I put my ear to the door, and I started hearing the sounds of greeting and light laughter from my mother, so I knew that they had just arrived.

I rushed to the bathroom, a mixture of anxiety and tension pushing me to get ready as quickly as possible. I quickly turned on the water, and I felt its cold spray washing away the remnants of drowsiness and the racing thoughts of the meeting that awaited me downstairs.

This was not the right time to think, but my head was full of thoughts, especially since I knew that I was late, and that they were now downstairs exchanging greetings.

I got out of the bathroom, my hair slightly damp, and a feeling of refreshment filling me, but the tension had not disappeared yet. I opened my closet, and began examining the dresses.

"Green? Or red? Maybe black? No... pink!"

I started talking to myself, as if I was in no hurry. I put my finger to my lips in thought, trying to decide what would be most appropriate. In the end, pink was the obvious choice. I have always loved it, and it reflects me in a way. It was a silk dress, slightly tight at the waist, but with a childish touch with the threads that controlled its tightness. It revealed a little bit of my chest, and I knew that this would upset my father, but he wouldn't dare to object today… in front of the guests. So, I would seize the opportunity.

I stood in front of the mirror for a few moments. I felt something strange as I looked at myself, perhaps a mixture of boldness and fear. I tied my hair in a ponytail, leaving some strands covering half of my face, which added a touch of innocence that I wanted. I put on some light makeup; childish colors that suited the occasion. I sprayed my favorite perfume, that scent that had always been a part of me, as if to say to the world: Here I am, but I am not as you know me.

I grabbed my phone, opened the door, and stood at the top of the stairs. My heart was beating fast, every step I imagined foretelling me of comments or looks. Will I be up to what they expect? Or will they reveal my disorder? I closed my eyes for a moment, then exhaled a long sigh, releasing some of the tension.

I began to descend, my steps in the childish heels that barely covered my toes making a clear sound, each click of the heel on the floor bringing me back to awareness of the situation.

I reached the last step of the stairs, and slowly turned to meet their eyes. My father was sitting on that big chair that always occupied the top spot in the room, like a throne. His gaze was charged with hatred and anger, examining my clothes as if he were contemplating a crime. His eyes did not leave me, as if I had betrayed everything he believed represented the family.

As for my mother, she was looking at me with obvious shock. Her eyes were moving up and down quickly, assessing me as if she were seeing a stranger. Perhaps she had not expected me to wear this type of clothing or this boldness.

But Alia, beside her, was different. Her warm white smile suggested that her heart was pure, without any judgment, as if she was happy just to be with me. As for Ramsay, she was busy eating a piece of cake, not caring about my presence or even the tense atmosphere that prevailed in the room.

Then my eyes automatically moved to the empty chair that was next to... her father. The nameless man. He was looking at my trembling hands, which I was caressing with obvious tension. His eyes scanned my slightly trembling legs, then he recognized me with a slight smile before turning his face away.

It was the first time I had ever seen a smile on his face. Despite his mysterious and constant silence, the smile was beautiful, filled with a kind of unexpected comfort for someone like him.

"Raquela… are you still there?" My mother's voice broke the tense silence, trying to force a smile on her face.

I nodded shyly and walked over to the empty chair next to Ramsay's father. I sat down in the chair slowly, trying to calm my tension.

"You and Ramsay are going to be friends, that would make me happy," Alya said in a tone full of optimism.

Ramsay swallowed the last bite of the cake and said nonchalantly, "We barely know each other, and we've already become friends."

Her mother replied in surprise: "Why didn't you tell me about this?"

Then my mother also intervened: "Did you know her before?"

I was about to reply, but Ramsay's father interrupted me with a slightly sarcastic tone, addressing my mother:

"They met at school today, didn't they? Didn't your husband tell you?"

There was a bit of sarcasm in his tone that I clearly sensed, although the others didn't notice.

Alia pretended to be sad and said:

"Oh, Gabriel, you knew and didn't tell me!"

He smiled and said: "I wanted to leave it for now, so we all know, dear."

I lowered my head under the table, and smiled mischievously. Now I knew his name... Gabriel. This was the name of the hero of one of my previous novels, which made it seem more exciting.

Their voices began to rise, and laughter filled the room, and I began to see another side of Gabriel. He was smiling and joining in the conversation, but I felt that his smile was forced, as if he was playing a role in front of us. I looked at his hands under the table, the same hand that had held the steering wheel that morning.

"Isn't that right, Raquel?" Ramsay suddenly interrupted me with her question. I was confused for a moment, because I wasn't paying attention to what they were saying.

I nervously looked away from his hands, hoping I wasn't interrupted by that scene, and said in a shaky voice, "Yes? What did you say, Ramsay?"

Ramsay put the fork on the plate and looked at me, "You said you wouldn't mind coming home with me… someday."

But before I could answer, my father's sharp voice interrupted her, "Raquel isn't going anywhere… not until you get my permission."

His tone still held that deep hatred. I looked at Ramsay, whose smile faded in embarrassment, while her mother spoke in surprise,

"Mr. Taiwan? Why? We're not strangers, we've become close neighbors, right? Are you going to stop your daughter from visiting us?"

My father sighed deeply, and I saw his fist tighten around the glass of juice in front of him, then he said in a stressed tone, "No... that's not what I meant, Miss...?"

"Alia." I quickly finished the sentence for him, and he repeated with difficulty,

"Yes, that's not what I meant, Miss Alia."

"So, that means you'll let her come whenever she wants, right?" Alia asked with a friendly smile,

while my father looked at her with even more angry looks, the feelings of hatred and loathing were clear in his eyes. She exchanged tense looks with Ramsay, as if she could sense what I felt.

He answered slowly, his words barely coming out of his mouth, "Okay... as... you wish."

Alia went back to eating with a smile, while I lowered my head, feeling the tension eating me up from the inside. I began to claw my hand under the table and pinch it nervously, an old habit I do whenever I feel scared or anxious. I continued to pinch myself deeply, my heart beating rapidly until I felt a warm hand take hold of mine, a large, rough hand, squeezing my hand gently as if to stop me from hurting myself.

It was his hand... Gabriel's hand...

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