Wretched Roses √

Chapter 87-Father

Freya's POV

(This chapter contains triggering content such as talk about abuse of alcohol, abuse, and neglectful parents)

I stared at an older version of the dad I knew. His skin was more wrinkly, his hair greyer and eyes more sunken, nevertheless, he looked the same as he did all those years ago. I didn't know what to say to the man who was supposed to be my father. We had no relationship, I'd barely known him even when we lived in the same house.

"Hello, Freya. Can I come inside?"

I had half a mind to shut the door in his face, but I was curious, so I refrained from doing so. "You have some nerve showing up here after, what has it been? Eight years?"

"Momma, who this?" Joey asked, tugging on my pants.

Crouching down, I cupped his cheek and said, "no one, my dear. Go continue watching your show, I just need to have a quick chat with him."

"Okay," he said, running off to the couch.

My attention turned to my father again. "What are you doing here?"

"I know I've been absent in your life but-"

"Absent? Really? You were basically a ghost for most of my childhood, absent doesn't even cover it. Get out of this building, I have nothing to say to you."

"Please, listen to me at least, darling."

My heart was pounding, I backed away when he tried to place a hand on my shoulder. He must have gotten the hint because he stepped away from me, hurt that he quickly wiped away etched on his face.

"Don't call me darling and stay away from me."

Trying to control my labored breathing, I inhaled and exhaled deeply. He nodded in understanding, though I doubted he understood, and kept his distance from me.

"Let me come in, let's talk," he was practically begging at this point.

"I'm alone with my kid, someone needs to watch him and I don't want to have that conversation in front of me. Do you really expect me to invite you in?"

"I know, I know. Can we talk some other time? Tomorrow?"

"No."

"Freya, please. I don't expect you to forgive me or anything just hear me out."

"Good because if you did you would be delusional. You just want to clear your conscience. News flash, it's too late for that."

I tried slamming the door in his face but he stopped it with his arm, stepping inside without my permission. Clenching my fists, I breathed deeply in an attempt to compose myself.

"I said, don't come inside," my words were firm but he stayed rooted in his place.

"I never meant to hurt you."

Furious, I whisper-shouted, "we're not having this conversation here, now, or ever."

He didn't listen, continuing with his speech. "I met your mom a couple of decades ago when I was young and a love-sick fool. I didn't realize how horrible she could be until we got you. We were in college, I wasn't ready for a kid and neither was she but her mother practically forced her to keep it. She refused to defy your grandma and kept you. If that's why she held such resentment towards you, I'm not sure. It could have also been because you were the eldest and she expected the most out of you or maybe she carried on her mother's habits to you. Regardless, I shouldn't have stood by and let it happen, for that, I'm sorry."