Kismet [ENGLOT]

Chapter 20

Charlotte's POV:

Days had stretched into what felt like an eternity since my last conversation with my dad, but the ache in my chest hadn't dulled. His words still lingered, cutting deeper than I wanted to admit. I understood his hesitation, his need to protect me, but his close-mindedness toward my relationship with Engfa felt like a betrayal. It wasn't just about her—it was about him refusing to see me for who I was, the choices I wanted to make, and the love I had chosen.

I sat by the window of my room, staring out at the quiet street below, where the golden hues of the late afternoon sun painted everything in a soft, nostalgic glow. The ache of my frustration mingled with memories of happier times, times when my dad and I were a team.

Since Mom passed away, it had been just the two of us. For years, we navigated the storm of grief together, finding solace in our shared understanding of each other's pain and happiness. We weren't wealthy, but we lived a life filled with contentment and love. My dad had always been my pillar, teaching me the importance of kindness, of withholding judgment, of seeing the goodness in people even when it wasn't obvious.

But now, it felt as though he had abandoned those very values. How could he not see what I saw in Engfa? How could he, a man who preached compassion and faith, refuse to extend it to someone I cared for so deeply? I had never asked much of him. Just this once, all I wanted was for him to open his heart, to set aside his reservations, and give Engfa the chance she deserved.

My fingers tightened around the edge of the windowpane as a wave of emotion surged through me. How ironic that the very lessons he'd instilled in me—acceptance, faith, and love—were the ones he now struggled to practice.

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I whispered into the stillness of my room, "Mom would've understood." I closed my eyes, imagining her gentle smile, her unwavering support. She always had a way of seeing the best in people, and I knew in my heart she would've seen the same in Engfa.

I took a deep breath and leaned my head against the glass, silently vowing to keep holding on. I just hoped my dad would remember the lessons he'd taught me and realise that sometimes love wasn't something to be feared—it was something to be embraced.

My phone buzzed, pulling me out of my thoughts. The faint vibration was enough to jolt me from the whirlwind of emotions swirling in my head. Glancing at the screen, I saw her name—Engfa. My heart immediately fluttered, a smile creeping onto my lips as I tapped to open the message.

Engfa: Hi baby! What are you up to?

My breath hitched slightly, my smile widening at the word baby. Lately, Engfa had grown bolder, letting those little terms of endearment slip into our conversations. And though it still took me by surprise every time, I couldn't deny how much it made my heart race. The simple word felt so natural coming from her, like it had always been meant to be there.

I caught myself staring at the screen for too long, my cheeks warm as if her message alone had lit a fire in me. Shaking my head with a shy laugh, I quickly typed back, trying to sound casual despite the way my chest felt like it might burst.

Charlotte: Nothing special. Just staying home and reading a book, I guess.

I barely had time to put the phone down before it buzzed again, her reply instant and direct:

Engfa: Get ready. I'll take you out on a date. I'll pick you up in 30.

My eyes widened, and I felt the blush creep up from my neck to my cheeks. A date? My fingers hovered over the screen, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure it could be heard in the empty room. We'd never used the word date before. Sure, we'd spent countless moments together—those quiet walks, stolen glances in the hallways, late-night talks—but none of it had ever been formalized. We had confessed our feelings, but there was something about calling it a date that made it feel more real.