Bound by Whispers

ten

August's POV

The result day had arrived, and I found myself sitting across from my father, Mr. Carter, and my teacher, Mrs. Johnson. My heart raced with nervousness as my father's stern gaze fixated on my report card. I had worked tirelessly for these exams, pouring my heart and soul into my studies, and I thought I had done pretty well. But my father's dissatisfaction made me feel like I had failed somehow, like I wasn't good enough.

Mrs. Johnson cleared her throat, trying to ease the tension in the room. "August has performed exceptionally well in most subjects," she began, her voice steady and reassuring. "She scored above 95 in three subjects and above 90 in two others. Overall, it's an impressive performance."

My father's frown deepened, and he interrupted, "But she only scored 100 in one subject? She's capable of more than that."

I felt a pang of disappointment in myself. No matter how hard I tried, it never seemed to be enough for my father. I always felt like I had to be perfect in every aspect of my life to earn his approval. It was a constant battle to prove myself worthy in his eyes.

Mrs. Johnson, sensing my unease, spoke up again, her tone gentle but firm. "Mr. Carter, August is an exceptional student. She consistently puts in the effort and dedication required to excel academically. It's important to remember that no one is perfect, and she has already achieved a lot."

My father huffed, clearly not satisfied with the explanation. "I just want the best for her," he said, his frustration evident in his voice.

In that moment, I couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions swirling inside me. The weight of my father's expectations bore down on me, making me feel inadequate and unworthy. I wanted so desperately to make him proud, to be the daughter he wanted me to be, but it always felt like I was falling short.

As they continued to discuss my results, I found myself retreating into my thoughts. No matter how much I achieved, it felt like it was never enough to earn my father's approval. It was a constant battle to meet his high standards, and it left me feeling drained and disheartened.

Just as we were about to leave, we crossed paths with Mr. Zonas and Ethan. They exchanged a few words with my father, and I couldn't help but notice the intensity in Ethan's gaze as he glanced at me. It was a fleeting moment, but it felt like there was something more in his eyes, something that I couldn't quite put into words.

As we walked away, I couldn't shake the feeling of his eyes on me, and I found myself impatiently waiting for him. My father continued to talk, but my mind was elsewhere, preoccupied with the unspoken connection I felt with Ethan.

I couldn't deny the emotions that stirred within me whenever I saw him, the way my heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. But I also knew that he was not someone I could afford to get involved with. He came from a different world, a world I could never be a part of. And so, I pushed those feelings aside, pretending that there was nothing more between us than a casual encounter.

I sighed, rolling my eyes at my own thoughts. My father shot me a quizzical look, and I quickly masked my irritation with a polite smile. Deep down, I knew that no matter how much I tried to ignore it, there was something about Ethan that intrigued me, something that I couldn't ignore or forget.

But for now, I would keep up the facade of indifference, pretending that he meant nothing to me. It was the only way to protect my heart from the inevitable heartbreak that would come if I allowed myself to fall for him.

We settled down on the benches lining the corridor, the anticipation in the air palpable as we waited for Mr. Zonas and Ethan to join us. My heart raced with a mix of nerves and curiosity, unsure of what the conversation would entail. My father, Mr. Carter, couldn't help but make a remark about Ethan's results, assuming they must be better than mine. I wanted to retort, to defend myself, but I held my tongue, not daring to speak up against my father's expectations.