Bumping Accident | Englot

Chapter 23

Charlotte's POV

I'm roused from a deep slumber by a persistent buzzing sound. I haven't slept this soundly in ages. Groggily, I stir and reach out to cuddle Engfa, but she's not beside me. Slowly, I crack open one eye, shielding myself from the morning sun. Peering from beneath the covers, I scan the room, seeking the source of the noise. Spotting my phone on Engfa's bedside table, I lurch out of bed to answer it. It's my dad on the line. "Hey, Dad," I greet him. "Hi, honey, why did you take so long to pick up?" he questions. "Sorry, Engfa must've moved my phone last night before we dozed off," I fib, instantly regretting the slip of the tongue. "Wait, wait, you two slept in the same bed?" my dad's tone turns icy. "Uh, I can't hear you, there must be a bad connection. I'll be home soon. Love you," I hurriedly interject, hanging up before he can probe further. I may or may not have just signed Engfa's death warrant. No, she'll be fine. Glancing back at the bed, I notice the bedside lamp still aglow, a small gesture that warms my heart. She left it on even though she woke up before me.

Downstairs, I hear voices, signaling the start of another day. I quickly go through my morning routine and change, then descend the stairs. Engfa is in the kitchen on the phone, her back to me. "I said I'll be there," she declares before ending the call. Turning around, she jumps at the sight of me. "You need to stop sneaking up on me, I'm gonna have a heart attack," she jokes, clutching her chest. I can't help but laugh. "Good morning to you too," I reply, planting a kiss on her cheek. "Where is everyone?" I inquire, heading towards her fridge. "They left about 30 minutes ago, since tomorrow's Monday, they wanted to rest or something," she explains, and I nod. "Who was that on the phone?" "My dad, he needs me to go see him," she responds. "You sound thrilled," I quip, and she rolls her eyes. "He makes me want to tear my hair out," she confesses, eliciting a chuckle from me. Closing the fridge, I face her again. "You do realize your fridge contains only orange juice, right?" "I happen to like orange juice," she retorts with a shrug. "Can you drop me off? We can grab something on the way," I suggest. "Of course, cute eyes you don't even have to ask," she replies, giving me a quick kiss.

We head upstairs to get ready, and I conveniently omit the slip-up with my dad. What Engfa doesn't know won't hurt her. I hope.

Engfa's POV

Charlotte and I grab bagels from a café and embark on our journey to her house. The car ride is filled with a comfortable silence, punctuated by Charlotte's soft humming to the music. "Olivia and I are hitting up a carnival on Wednesday,  are you free to join?" she asks, breaking the silence. "Yeah, I'd love to come. I can swing by and pick you guys up," I offer, stealing a glance at her as she nods.

Pulling up to her house, I notice her dad waiting outside, glaring at my car. "Uh, beautiful, why is your dad outside, and why does he look like he's killed me to death in his mind a hundred times over?" I inquire, furrowing my brows at Charlotte. "He called this morning, and I may have accidentally mentioned that we shared a bed," she confesses. "WHAT? Are you trying to get me killed?" I exclaim, frowning at her. "You'll be fine, he's just trying to intimidate you," she reassures me. "Well, it's definitely working," I mutter under my breath.

Charlotte begins to exit the car, and I move to follow her, but she stops me. "Um, baby, I'd recommend you stay in the car," she advises, gesturing towards her dad, who's currently staring daggers into my soul. "Tell him I'm a child of god, that we didn't do anything," I joke, earning a playful hit from Charlotte. She gives me a quick peck on the cheek before stepping out. I offer her dad an awkward wave before hastily departing.

Taking a deep breath, I navigate towards my parents' house. Thankfully, they reside not far from Charlotte's, and I arrive swiftly. Parking outside, I step out and head towards the door, hoping my father won't spark another argument. I knock and wait, greeted by my mom's warm smile upon opening the door. "Hey, Mom, how are you?" I greet her, enveloping her in a hug. "I'm doing well, sweetie, come on in," she invites, leading me inside.

Upon entering, my gaze falls upon the table adorned with family photos—memories frozen in time, capturing moments of genuine happiness. "Your dad's on a call, he'll be out soon," my mom informs me, motioning for me to take a seat. "Have you spoken to your sister?" she inquires, settling down beside me. "Yeah, a few days ago, she's doing alright," I assure her. "Good, she doesn't call as often these days," she notes. "Why don't you call her then?" I prod gently, already knowing the answer.

Glancing behind her, my mom returns her focus to me. "I'm just busy," she replies, a feeble excuse that doesn't escape my notice. "Where is she?" she continues, and I shrug. "Not sure, I didn't ask. She seems happy though," I reply, a smile tugging at my lips. I gaze at the photos again, a reminder of the bond between us—a bond that makes me fiercely protective of her.

"Have you met someone?" my mom suddenly asks, drawing my attention back to her. "What?" I feign ignorance, feeling a flutter of nerves. "Your smile, it reaches your eyes now. I haven't seen you smile like that in a while," she observes, her intuition uncanny. "I always smile like this," I deflect, but she sees right through me. "You're glowing, that spark in your eyes, the one you only had when you played the piano—the one born out of passion and love—it's back," she remarks, her smile widening.

Before she can delve further, my dad enters the room, his presence immediately extinguishing the warmth. "Oh, look who decided to show up, fashionably late as always," he sneers, effectively killing the mood. Suppressing the urge to roll my eyes, I inquire, "What do you need, Father?" "Nothing much, just wanted to remind you about the school's opening party next week. You need to be there," he declares, not bothering to ask politely. "Just have your assistant email me the details, I'll be there," I respond curtly, my attendance solely for my mom's sake.

He scrutinizes me, his disdain evident. "Such a disappointment," he mutters, prompting me to roll my eyes for the umpteenth time. Nothing I do will ever be enough for him. "What's your problem?" I retort, my frustration simmering. "You, you're my problem." He states.

"Just be honest dad you don't care about the fact that I'm gay you just care about the fact that he didn't leave you anything."

"Don't speak to me that way." He raises his voice.

"How bad did it hurt huh, he left everything to me, every single penny and you were his son."

My mom intervenes before things escalate further."Engfa, stop," she urges, attempting to diffuse the tension. "How can you be like this? It's not like I asked for any of this. I was just as shocked as you were. You're my dad, and yet you treat me like a stranger," I vent, but he remains silent, retreating to the backyard.

I meet my mom's gaze, my annoyance evident. "Why do you keep defending him?" I question, but she offers no response. Instead, she shifts the subject, diverting attention away from the brewing conflict. "I made your favorite dish for you to take home," she announces, and I let it slide, not wanting to upset her. Accepting the containers, I smile gratefully at her.

"Whoever she is, I already love her for bringing that smile back to your face," she remarks, pulling me into a tight hug. "I love you, Mom, so much," I whisper, my emotions threatening to spill over. "I love you too, sweetie. No matter what happens, never forget that," she replies, holding onto me a moment longer before we pull apart.

"I've got to go now, but I'll call you later," I promise, stepping towards the door. Casting a fleeting glance back at the house, I catch my dad's gaze from the backyard. For a brief moment, a flicker of the love he once held for me shines through, but it quickly fades as he averts his eyes. How I wish we could reclaim that sense of familial unity.