“It is not about your mother,” he replied dryly, sipping his wine.
My father poured himself another glass of wine before motioning to the seat across from him. "Sit, Antonio. We need to have a serious conversation."
I hesitated but eventually sank into one of the plush armchairs, feeling the softness envelop me. "What's going on?" I asked, trying to keep my tone neutral.
He steepled his fingers and studied me for a long moment before speaking. "I've been hearing rumors, Antonio. Rumors that concern me."
I frowned, feeling a flicker of annoyance. "What rumors?"
He leaned forward, his gaze piercing. "Rumors that you're... uninterested in women, that you have other inclinations." His voice dropped on the last word, heavy with implication.
I stared at him, completely thrown. "What? Where did you even hear that?"
My father’s expression didn’t waver. "Does it matter? The point is, I need to know if there's any truth to these claims."
I couldn’t help it—I laughed. It was ridiculous. "No, Dad, there’s no truth to that. I just don’t see the point in getting wrapped up in shallow relationships. That’s all."
He regarded me for a long moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as if weighing my words. "So, you don’t plan on settling down anytime soon?"
"Marriage?" I snorted. "Come on, Dad. I’m not about to let some woman tie me down just because she’s after my money."
"Not all women are like that, Antonio," he said quietly.
“Sure, Dad. Your first marriage wasn’t about money at all,” I replied, my voice hard.
His eyes flickered with hurt, but he didn’t argue. “That’s not the point.”
“I’m just saying, why would I get involved in something so messy? Look at your second marriage, too. I wouldn’t sleep with both eyes closed if I were you.” The words spilled out, unchecked, fueled by the long history of resentment that sat between us.
“Antonio, watch your tone,” he warned, a sharp edge entering his voice.
But I didn’t back down. “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me that marriage hasn’t made you more paranoid than ever. Or that you're actually happy."
My father’s face tightened, the lines on his forehead deepening. For a long moment, he just stared at me, his eyes hard and unreadable. Finally, he sighed and leaned back in his chair, swirling the wine in his glass. "Happiness isn’t as straightforward as you seem to think."
I folded my arms, refusing to let him deflect. "It should be. You make it sound like misery is part of the deal."
"Life isn’t a fairytale, Antonio. Love isn’t some cure-all that makes everything perfect."
"I’m not asking for perfection, Dad. I’m just saying I don’t see the point of marriage if it’s only going to make things worse."
He sighed again, a deep, weary sound that seemed to carry the weight of the world. "You think you know everything now, but one day... you’ll understand that life is more complicated than the rules you’ve set for yourself."
I shook my head. "I doubt it. I’m not like you."
“No, you're not,” he said quietly. “You have your mother’s stubbornness and a heart that's still closed off. You’ll learn the hard way if you don’t change.”
The conversation ended in silence, the tension hanging heavy between us as I stood to leave. But his final words followed me out of the room like a shadow.
Chapter Seven
Kendra
I sat at my small kitchen table, sipping a lukewarm cup of coffee, as I stared at the online application form for a spot at ABS Broadcasting Station on my laptop screen. A cold sweat trickled down my neck as I read the final section: “Tell us a little about yourself in 200 words or less.”
My pulse quickened, while my heart pounded in my chest, and a cold sweat trickled down my neck. I couldn’t tell if it was the summer heat or the weight of my own nerves gnawing at me, but the pressure was mounting up.
Taking a deep breath, I let my thoughts flow onto the page. My fingers hovered before I began typing, "As a passionate and driven individual with a knack for storytelling, I’m excited to apply for the position at ABS..."
