"I think a red dress would suit you. Yes, definitely a red dress! I will buy it later with your mother. And you also need hair ornaments. Your hair is so soft and silky, you have to style it! I'm telling you, a dress isn't enough! Oh my, I can already see it. You will be the prettiest girl in the world!"
Misha couldn't stand it anymore and buried his flushed face in his hands, wanting to disappear right there and then. Why couldn't the old lady understand that he wasn't, isn't, and won't ever be her great-granddaughter?! The gender was wrong, for starters!
Oblivious to his despair, the old lady rambled on and on, switching from a red dress to a white one, saying it'd give off a feeling of purity. A little girl of her age was still shrouded in innocence, appearing very candid, and they should take advantage of it. After that came a blue dress, then a green one; the old lady was determined to weigh the pros and cons of every color possible.
'Mom, Masha! Hurry up and save me!' Misha silently cried, just about to throw himself out of the window.
Goodness, he even hoped Gabriel would show up! That would surely draw the old lady's attention and give him a breather. However, no one answered his prayers no matter how long he waited, and gradually, anxiety started to kick in, twisting his stomach in knots.
His mother always came by early in the morning, yet she still hadn't shown up despite the clock hitting 10 AM. Misha couldn't help but wonder if something had happened to her, and all that came to mind were ominous thoughts.
Perhaps, her body had finally broken down.
Misha shook his head, telling himself that it wasn't possible. His mother was stupidly stubborn, and even half-dead, she'd still drag her body to his bedside and wait until he was out of the hospital before blacking out. And Masha was also at home. She'd take care of their mother and nurse her back to health if something were to happen.
Yes, his mom was certainly fine. Misha comforted himself, then tried to think of something else to distract his mind. But the old lady's hoarse voice always brought him back to reality each time his mind started to wander. Goodness! Did she never shut up?!
Misha was just about to lose all hope when a man entered the room, silencing everyone.
Because Misha was still holding his head in his hands, he didn't immediately notice him. He only realized there was an extra person in the room when the old lady asked who he was. He then curiously snuck a peek between his fingers. And instantly froze.
It was a tall man with broad shoulders and long legs. The black shirt and dark jeans enhanced his athletic figure, making him appear somewhat imposing but not bulky. He had a chiseled jawline, which was clean-shaven, and a roman nose. His gray eyes were piercing, and his platinum blonde hair was relatively short yet elegantly styled.
No matter where he went, he was bound to draw the attention with that kind of heaven-defying appearance. Even the bookworm in Misha's room couldn't help but put aside his book and stare at the visitor, wondering who he was. The answer came fast enough, and it surprised the two male patients so much that their jaws dropped.
"I'm Misha's father," the man replied to the old lady's question, his tone even.
No wonder the little boy was so cute and his sister so beautiful! The mother was as pretty as a doll while the father was handsome beyond words; with those kinds of genes, the children could not be hideous. Life truly was unfair. Compared to that family of four, they were as adorable as cockroaches! And yet they were average-looking…
In order to preserve their self-esteem, they wisely decided to shift their gaze elsewhere; one went back to read his book, and the other discovered that the white ceiling was quite fascinating. A real piece of art, even.
But honestly, Misha could care less about his roommates' mood right now. Even if they were to drop dead, he probably wouldn't notice it. He was too shocked by his father's sudden appearance to bother with his surroundings, which had become a blurry background to him.
The moment Misha realized he had transmigrated into his younger self, he knew he'd have to face his father sooner or later, but he didn't expect the man to cut short his business trip and show up without warning. There were still a few days left before the end of June, yet the bastard was standing in front of him, in his hospital room, instead of meeting business partners. How could Misha not be surprised?
Unsure if he wanted to run for it or beat the shit out of his father, Misha ultimately didn't move, not even lifting his pinkies. Only his heavy breathing betrayed that he was a living being and not a statue.
Seeing this, his father frowned and said, "Misha? Are you alright?"
Even though he asked about his well-being, he didn't wait for his son's answer before calling the nurse over. However, he had barely taken a step forward when his son's soft voice traveled to his ears—it was so small that he almost didn't hear it.
"Yes?" he said, stopping dead in his tracks.
"I'm fine," the boy mumbled, not daring to lift his eyes and meet his father's.
"Liar," the man replied. "I'm calling the nurse over."
Who did Misha think he was trying to fool? Anyone with a brain could tell that his breathing was too fast and irregular! Moreover, the boy was panting while clutching his head, not even moving an inch. This little rascal was usually so energetic, bouncing everywhere and talking non-stop, so how could the man not notice that there was something off with his son?
Helpless, Misha could only watch his father disappear into the corridor; according to him, waiting for someone to come over after pushing the nurse call button would take too long. In his mind, his son had the time to die at least three times before the doctor arrived. Thus, he had better fetch a nurse himself instead of obediently waiting for one to come. This way, they could also call the doctor sooner.
Unfortunately, he couldn't directly grab a doctor in passing and drag them over to his son's room. Otherwise, he'd have done it.
After his father left, Misha couldn't help but bite his lips, taking deep breaths by the nose to calm down. His chest was hurting so much, as if someone was trying to crush it. Something also seemed to be stuck in his throat, making it hard to breathe.
The last memory Misha had of his father wasn't glorious. After drinking every day for many years, he had long lost this handsome appearance of his. Over time, his father turned into a middle-aged man with a beer belly. His gray eyes were haggard, his hair greasy, his jaw rarely shaved, and he wore rags that didn't do him justice.
Most of all, he didn't look at him with so much concern and fatherly love. Following his mother's death, all that was left inside his father's eyes was hatred and resentment.
'And here I thought I'd be angry to death when I meet him,' Misha mocked himself in his heart, feeling upset deep down for his lack of reaction. His emotions were currently a mess, and he didn't know how he truly felt.
After the daily beating and harsh words, Misha had long forgotten that his father did love him once upon a time. Like his sister, like his mother, Misha was his precious baby. He was his one and only son.
However, that all changed the day the woman he loved died.
No matter how much Misha blamed Gabriel, he knew the only one responsible for his mother's death was him. It had been an accident, but the role he played in her death couldn't be denied.
Back then, in a fit of anger, he had run away from Gabriel and crossed the road without looking left and right. He hadn't seen the car rushing over, but his mother had. She bolted to the road and pushed him out of the way; the one who should have been hit by the car was him, not her.
At the time, Gabriel took the blame, saying that it was his fault. Knowing the boy's temper, he shouldn't have teased him. Misha couldn't even remember what the teenager had said. He only knew that he had been displeased with him, like always, and had barely stepped out of the car before running away.
Then, there was a heart-wrenching scream, the feeling of a hand pushing his back, and the sound of screeching tires. When he turned to look around, his mother was lying in a pool of blood, motionless.
His father loved his wife more than anything, and he'd have given up the world for her. But Gulnas disappeared from his life on that tragic night. They pledged to be together forever, but their forever had been cut short, oh so short. He then had to face the one who caused her death every day; they ate at the same table, shared the same house, and bumped into each other several times a day.
It was unbearable.
Even if it was his son, he couldn't forgive him, and as he drank more and more to forget the pain, his reason slowly gave out. Soon, he started to vent his frustration, anger, and sorrow on his son. This sad truth, Misha had understood it the very first time his father hit him. That was why he didn't retaliate in the beginning, telling himself to grin and bear it.
Despite what Gabriel said, the young Misha still felt guilty enough to believe that he deserved his father's beating. This vicious circle lasted until Gabriel found out what was happening when he and Masha were out. It had thrown him in a fit of rage, and Gabriel set the record straight, directly sending his father to the hospital.
How could Misha shut up for years, saying nothing to him or his sister? Here Gabriel thought his wounds were the result of his daily fights at school, but the reality was crueler than what he could have ever expected. Sure, most visible injuries resulted from his brawls with his classmates, but the ones under his clothes, the ones that were much more serious, were from his father.
That day, Gabriel admonished the boy for hours, making him promise over and over again to tell him if anything like this were to happen in the future. At that time, amiss the annoyance, Misha had also felt a burst of warmth welling up in his chest. Little did he know that this good big brother would turn out to be a wolf in sheep's clothing.
The boy let out a long sigh before softly whispering to himself, his voice dripping with self-mockery, "My life is a freaking mess."
________
Chapter revised on 2022-05-01
Edited by Clozed! ♥
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