Say I Never Mattered | A Sooshu Fan-Fiction

chapter twenty-eight

tw: mentions of suicide
+
a/n:
my chapters are getting progressively longer and idk how to feel abt it tbh so feedback would be appreciated

I knocked on my dad's office door with hesitation. I've run out of options here. I've never been one to share my emotions or much of my inner monologue, but in this moment I want to vent my frustrations more than I ever have before. Everyone I know aside from my dad is busy so even if I wanted to go to anyone else, I wouldn't be able to. That, and I was always a daddy's girl growing up, as gross as that sounds to say considering the sexual connotations put behind the word now.

Gross.

After more than a minute had passed, my dad opened the door and asked me, "Hey, what's wrong?"

I wiped the tears from my face, "Everything is wrong and I don't know what the fuck to do about it."

"Come in, take a seat," My dad said to me, pulling out a chair for me to sit next to him. "I won't pressure you to tell me what's going on but I'm here for you if you want to vent or need some advice."

"It's a bit of both," I chuckled, beginning to run my hands up and down my yoga pants anxiously. Since beginning my modeling-training, I've been given a strict workout regimen and that on top of everything else has been stressful, to say the least.

"Whenever you're ready, go for it," My dad said, closing his laptop and taking out the pen from behind his ear and taking it out.

"There are a lot of things going on with me right now so I don't even know where to start, quite frankly," I laughed nervously, walking over to him and sitting next to him. "Will you give me something to build off of?"

"How about this, how's working with Cheryl and William?" My dad asked, turning his chair to face me.

"I haven't been working with them much directly lately just because of the training. As appreciative as I am to have this opportunity, I truly underestimated how much work it takes to do all of this. Perhaps it's just my lack of perception around the whole 'being famous' thing or maybe I'm close-minded, I just didn't think this through," I admitted to him, turning my chair to face him as well.

"If you don't want to do it anymore, I can buy you out of your contract, you know," My dad offered to me, trying his best to extend an olive branch to me.

"It's not that I don't want to do it anymore," I sighed. "I have a lot of goals now that I didn't have before. I want to do this, I do. I just haven't truly started yet and it's killing me a little bit."

"I didn't think you'd end up being so passionate about it," My father said, sitting back in his seat. "People like us don't usually enjoy being the center of attention like that."

"What, people with high intellect?" I scoffed softly. "Says the business magnate, software developer, media proprietor, investor, and industrial designer. As if you don't enjoy all of the attention you get."

"The difference is that I'm getting attention for my intellect," My dad said to me.

I rolled my eyes, "Are you insinuating that I can't be known for modeling as well as for my intellect? First of all, I haven't been given an opportunity to show my intellect, and second of all, modeling isn't just about looks. Cheryl and William didn't just recruit me because I'm pretty. I'm clearly not the desired height of a model but they wanted me because I have something more than just a 'pretty face.' Runway modeling is about more than just being attractive and advertising clothes. It's about delicacy and grace. The designer is relying on you to portray a certain personality and appearance to fit the line of clothing that they're creating. I have a certain cold
and ethereal look about me that they want and it's one of the first times I've ever felt wanted, either. It probably does sound ridiculous to 'people like us,' but modeling has truly done more for me than my intellect ever has."