I didn’t catch what he meant, but I didn’t question it either. I was too busy holding on, letting years of pressure pour out in that one moment. For the first time ever, I was standing in myfather’s arms, not as a stranger, not as a question, but as his daughter… even if neither of us knew what to do with that yet.
When I finally pulled back, wiping my face, he cleared his throat, giving me a moment.
Then his tone shifted, softer, but curious.
“Now… on another note,” he said, sitting down. “What were you doing onthatside of the wing?”
I scrunched my face up, acting clueless. “Huh?”
“You know which side,” he smirked lightly. “Domino’s.”
My cheeks warmed. “I was just exploring. Is that side forbidden or something?”
He shook his head. “No… not at all.Mi casa es su casa.”
I shrugged. “Oh. Well, I was just… curious.”
His eyes studied mine for a moment, then he said carefully, “You should know… Domino isn’t a typical boyfriend type.”
I stiffened. “Boyfriend? Who said anything about a boyfriend?”
His mouth twitched. “In all the years he’s been here, I’ve never known him to have one girlfriend. Plenty of women, yes, but nowoman.”
I folded my arms. “And you’re telling me this,why?” My tone was more curious than confrontational, but a hint of stubbornness crept in, nonetheless.
He chuckled softly, the sound rich and amused. “Because Domino doesn’t do breakfast with females... and he definitely doesn’t invite them into his space.”
My heart skipped a beat at the mention of Domino, but I masked my reaction with an impassive expression.
“We didn’t havebreakfast; we just talked over coffee. He wanted to know about the girl everyone has been buzzing about. That’s it.” I forced a casual shrug, hoping to downplay the significance of the conversation.
“That’s all?” His voice dripped with disbelief, as if he could see through my carefully constructed facade.
“Yes,” I insisted, trying to inject confidence into my reply. “Besides, I’m not looking for a man. I’ve got enough on my plate already.”
My father leaned back in his chair, a grin spreading across his face. “Maybe becoming a mule was about more than just trying to reconnect with me.”
I could tell he relished the thought of teasing me.
I shook my head, my expression hardening. “It was just coffee and conversation… nothing more. As for me becoming a mule? I did what I had to do. That’s all there was to it.”
He watched me for a long beat, his gaze piercing but contemplative, and then nodded slowly. “If you say so.” Yet, the way his eyes glinted suggested he didn’t fully believe me.
“So… I was thinking about what you said about your mother yesterday,” he mentioned, shifting the conversation.
The mere mention of her name soured my mood instantly. I had tried to call her again, only to get the same result.
There was a pause, a weighty silence that suggested my father was choosing his words with great care.
“Vanessa wasn’t…” he began, exhaling lightly, shaking his head as if struggling with the truth. “She wasn’t what you described.”
I frowned slightly, folding my arms loosely. “What do you mean?”
His eyes shifted, not avoiding me, just looking somewhere else for a second… perhaps, somewhere in the past.
“She was…” he searched for the right phrase, then offered a small, almost disbelieving smile. “Beautiful, yeah, but not just in looks. There was a softness to her… a kind of calm. She had this incredible way of making a man feel like the weight of the world wasn’t as heavy as it really was.”
“Hmph!” I scoffed loudly, unable to hide my disdain.
