Shantel’s pov
“Not now, Shantel.”
That was all my father said.
Not “hello.”
Not “how are you?”
Not even a glance long enough to prove that he remembered I was his daughter.
Just not now.
Like I was an irritating knock on his office door. Like I was another file he didn’t want to sign.
I stood at the spot like I was tied to the ground for a short moment. I parted my lips to speak, but not even one single word could come out of my lips, which were shaking. I didn’t even want to say much to him; I just wanted to greet him. That’s it. A simple hi, Dad. But maybe his mind had told him something else— that I had come to beg the way I had tried to several times. For his attention, for his love, for a place in his life that he had already built without me inside of it.
He brushed me off
