“Dad.” I am watching Bianca hug Dad so tightly with tears brimming in her eyes. She was so broken and now she found her strength again.
“My dear Bianca,” my dad hushes her as he patted her head.
Kristoff came over and comforted her once again. I must admit that I am jealous. Not of Kristoff but of Dad.
He looked at her with so much passion and concern. I don’t know what else. He has never looked at me with those eyes ever. Was it because Bianca’s sick? Or was it because I rebelled and I was too stubborn that I defied him because of my childish cries?
I don’t know. And now I am standing near the door of his hospital room, numb and dumbfounded. Frozen. Stoned. I can’t move. I don’t know what to tell him.
Should I just leave? Would I aggravate his condition when I stay here longer? T
