But the moment his hand touched his father, regret washed over him.
What if his father got angry?
What if he struck him?
Rocco plastered a sheepish smile on his face to diffuse the situation, though his heart was pounding in fear.
Was this going to be one of those moments where his father exploded with fury?
"How dare someone like you touch me! Off with your head! Go die!"
Rocco braced himself for a blow, ducking his head and squeezing his eyes shut.
Seconds ticked by with no reaction.
Confused, Rocco cautiously peeked up—and froze at the sight of his father's expression.
"C-Cute… so… c-cute…" his father muttered, his face flushed a deep red.
Cu..te?
What?
No, impossible.
Was his father mean saying something about a cuke?
Wait, that is also impossible… was he means talking about custard?
His father's cheeks burned as he pressed a hand to his mouth to stifle his words.