As I stepped out of the car, the air felt dense, pressing against me like a heavy blanket. Before me stood my father's house, now devoid of the warmth and grace it once exuded. The formerly beautiful estate resembled a ghost of its former self, with cracked windows, overgrown gardens, and a grand front door hanging slightly askew. It was a fading testament to a man who had squandered everything, including me.
And there he was, waiting.
My father.
His suit was wrinkled, his posture slightly hunched, and his face looked gaunter than I remembered. He appeared weary, as if the burden of his decisions had finally settled upon him. Yet, his sharp, calculating eyes fixated on me as I approached.
He took a measured breath, forcing a smile that barely touched his lips. “Isla.”
I found my feet
