Chapter 9: A Father's Embrace
Eva POV
I felt like I was drowning in a sea of shame, my dirt-stained clothes a constant reminder of the humiliation I had endured. All I could think about was escaping, fleeing the torment of my classmates. I glanced at my wristwatch for what felt like the hundredth time, willing the hands to move faster.
And then, as if the universe had finally heard my silent plea, the bell rang, signaling the end of class. I sprang into action, grabbing my bag and making a hasty exit. I didn't dare look back, fearing what I might see.
As I walked home, exhaustion washed over me like a wave. It felt like I was trudging through quicksand, every step a struggle. Finally, I reached my front door and stumbled inside.
Opening the door, I was met with a familiar sight—my father, surrounded by cartons and clutter, his hands busy arranging the contents. But as soon as he saw me, his expression changed, his eyes widening with concern. He dropped what he was doing and rushed toward me, his arms open wide.
I closed the door behind me and walked into his embrace, feeling a sense of safety and comfort wash over me. My father's arms wrapped around me, holding me close as he examined my disheveled appearance.
"What's happening, Eva? What happened to you?" he asked, his voice laced with worry and a hint of alarm.
I buried my face in his chest, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I didn't know where to start, how to explain the events of the day. All I knew was that I felt broken, shattered by the cruelty of my classmates.
I continued to cry, my body shaking with sobs. My father's words of comfort only made me cry harder, as if the dam had finally burst and I couldn't stem the flow of tears. He held me at arm's length, his eyes searching mine, but I couldn't meet his gaze.
"Come on, Eva, you can talk to me. I'm always here for you," he said, his voice soft and gentle. "Tell me what's wrong."
But I just shook my head, unable to speak. I couldn't tell him about the bullying, about Garvin and Cassandra's cruel words. I couldn't add to his worries, not when he already had so much on his plate.
I buried my face in his chest again, letting his warmth and comfort envelop me. But the tears kept flowing.
"Come on, baby," my father whispered, his voice a soothing balm to my frazzled nerves. He had always called me "baby" since I was a little girl, and the term of endearment only made me cry harder.
"Tell me what happened," he coaxed, his eyes filled with deep concern. "Were you bullied at school?" he asked, his voice laced with a hint of suspicion.
I felt a jolt of surprise. How did he know? Had he guessed? I couldn't meet his gaze, fearing that he would see the truth in my eyes.
"You can talk to me," he said again, his voice gentle but firm. "Tell me what happened. If you were bullied at school, I'll talk to the teachers, and those who did this to you will face justice."
"I'll go talk to them, I'll tell them what happened," my father said, his voice firm with determination. But I shook my head, unable to face the fact that I was worrying him.
"No, I wasn't being bullied," I lied, trying to sound convincing. But my father's eyes saw right through me.
"I know you're not telling me the truth," he said gently. "But I'll let it go for now. Can I trust you to tell me when you're ready?"
I nodded, feeling a mix of relief and guilt. "I just want to keep it personal, okay?" I said, trying to sound strong.
My father looked at me with kind eyes. "I trust you, Eva. I know you're okay. You'll get through this, I promise." He paused, then added, "I know you were bullied, but if you don't want to talk about it, that's okay. Just know that you're better than them, that's why they're doing what they're doing. They're trying to bring you down because they're jealous of you."
"Go and take your bath and come down to eat," my father said, his voice warm and inviting. I stood up, my eyes drifting to my bag, which lay on the floor, a reminder of the day's events. I saw my father glance at it too, and I knew he was thinking about the state it was in. I felt a pang of guilt, knowing how much he had spent on it and all my books.
I gave him an apologetic smile, but he just waved it off. "Don't worry about your bag," he said with a reassuring smile. "There's some good news—I've got a carpentry contract at your school tomorrow, so there will be enough money coming in."
My heart swelled with happiness at his words. I felt a weight lift off my shoulders, knowing that our financial struggles would soon ease. I hugged him tightly, feeling grateful for his hard work and dedication to our family.
"Thank you, Daddy," I whispered, my voice muffled against his chest.
"That's not all," my father said, a sly smile spreading across his face. "When the money comes in, I'll buy you a new bag, one that's bigger and finer than this one. And I'll get you new books too, so you don't have to worry about anything."
My heart skipped a beat at his words. A new bag and new books? It sounded like a dream come true. I felt like I was floating on air, my earlier worries forgotten in the face of my father's generosity.
"Really, Daddy?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
He nodded, his eyes twinkling with excitement. "Really, baby. You deserve only the best, and I'm going to make sure you get it. No more worn-out bags or tattered books for you. You're going to go to school in style, and I'm going to make sure of it."
He hugged me back, his arms warm and strong. "Anything for you, baby," he whispered. "Now, come and eat. You must be starving."