Harold drove home with a heavy frown pressed deep on his face, his grip on the steering wheel was so tight that his knuckles turned pale.
The drive had been quiet, but inside his chest, his heart was thundering in anger and frustration. He did not even notice the usual sights on his street, all he felt was rage burning inside him, eating him up.
He reached his house and drove into the compound with speed. The tires screeched as he forced the car to stop sharply in front of the garage.
He pushed the door open and stepped out, slamming it behind him with a loud bang. His shoes hit the tiles of the compound quickly as he stormed into the house without looking back.
As he entered the living room, the first thing that met him was the warm sound of his son’s laughter. Max, was sitting on o
