MATHILDA'S POV
Being trapped in the car with Fredric's cynical stare drilling into me made it hard to breathe. The tension was suffocating, and my thoughts wouldn't stop circling around my father's pale face and fragile condition. Why do my twenties have to be so miserable? Why does every chapter of my life seem to hurt more than the last?
"Are you all right, Mathilda?"
Only one thing soothed me-the warmth in Mrs. Rosa's voice, her motherly tone that never failed to calm the chaos inside me.
"I don't know, Mrs. Rosa," I murmured softly. "I'm still thinking about my father..."
"Crybaby," Fredric muttered from the front seat, rolling his eyes.
Oh, how I wished I could throw something at him-anything. His voice alone made me feel worse. Couldn't he show even the smallest bit of empathy?
