Natalia's Wrath

Natalia stomped the length of the room, her heels executing the click-tack against the marble floor. Nudging a finger at the deaf mute television, she said: "Look at them! Smiling like some perfect little family-my family."

Her father was sipping whiskey, indifferent. "Sit down, Natalia."

"I won't sit down!" she snapped with her glare of a finger at him."Do you have any idea how this makes me look? I'm supposed to be his fiancée, yet the world thinks she still has a claim on him!"

He swirled his drink, watching her with a sharp eye. "And screaming at the television changes that how?"

"This isn't just about the picture," Natalia hissed."It's respect. I'm fool enough for him!"

Leaning back in his chair, her father put his glass down on the side table. "Respect isn't given, Natalia; it's taken.What do you intend to do?

Brewing tension wreathed around her lips. "He chose me. He promised me. I won't let her crawl back into his life."