As my father carries on hastily pulling out items from the wardrobe, my mother and I exchange anxious stares. My stomach turns into knots as I cross my fingers silently praying that father finds the box. He stops when the closest is almost empty, he runs his hand through his hair and rests his hands on his hips. His body language already tells me that there is bad news but I don’t want to assume. “Is it there?” Vivian asks. “No…it’s not there,” he responds with disbelief. “So now I’m going to have to clean up this mess that you created for nothing,” mother huffs. My heart starts pounding on my chest, I have no idea how much money was in the box but judging by the disheartened and sick look on my father’s face I gather it was a lot of money.
Father glances at me and says nothing, deep in m
