Game of fate

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The driver Mr. Singh tried to break the ice with a friendly introduction but I was too engrossed in my world to reciprocate the gesture, he backed it up with, you look a lot like your father, I cast him an icy glance, one cold enough to freeze a person to death, he understood. The rest of the drive was silent, I arrived at the airport to find a private jet waiting for me, and the crew members treated me with excessive Courtesy bowing at my every step, I boarded the flight without a word, I plugged in my MP3, I could hear the crews murmur pointing out the striking resemblance between my father and I, same piercing eyes, strong chiselled jawline evoking a sense of authority, same egoistic and arrogance that identified his persona. The flight came

deep baritone b

s with me, eyes, mouth and a one-sided dimpled smile. He exuded bot

an from before attached to his side like a sore thumb only this time she wore a s

n. My wife" my

n ". She wore the same plastic smile

serious shit. I t

my unease around my dad and struggling to muster the courage to ask him a million questions swirling in my head. Rather I

re was Vivian, my stepmom - the wolf in sheep's clothing. Her sickly soft voice and plast

the ange

a few things that my dad and I had a sha

e marry h

rom the numerous que

all. I loved sitting under the tree, because of the serenity and the fact I could avoid all

rplexed was his creased brows, which I was sure his eyes would be stony. He turned abruptly which ca

saw a profile of a person with a Nezuko in Demon Slayer popped into

i

had accepted. Crazy. I

i

e popped

mpha

, Rare

curled m

one cra