Chapter Five.

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Okay. Hello.

Hiiii! To be quite honest, I didn't even think I'd be updating until about an hour ago. I've struggled to finish this chapter for months, and it got to a point where I'd open it, read a paragraph and just close it again. For some reason, I got really bad writer's block for this chapter and for ages I just couldn't write it. 

But I've been wanting to for so long. I know how I want this story to go, and how I want it to progress, and I have ideas on top of ideas as to what I want to do with it - it's just this damn chapter that's been stopping me! But it's finished now. I can't say I'm 100% happy with how it's written - to me, reading it back, it feels like it's a little too rushed. But that may just be because I've been reading the same words over and over for months. If it is rushed, I apologise, but if I have to put out a crappy chapter to then continue to progress with the story, that's okay.

So I'm so sorry for such a long wait, and I'm so sorry if the chapter isn't very good. I'm going to get started on the next one tonight and hopefully finish it tonight too! I have some time off work now, so my focus is on my writing.

Please (if you're still reading) vote, comment and let me know what you think!

Enjoy!<3

**


"It's still a complete madhouse around here..."

I was forced to tear my eyes from their focused stare by a searing-hot cup entering my vision. The steam rose upwards, clouded my gaze for a moment and then disappeared into the air. I accepted the mug with trembling hands.

"Milky with two sugars, just how you like it," My dad continued to talk. His voice was proud – cheerful. A grin pulled at his lips. "I remembered."

Down to the headache I had cried my way to, and the raw, uncensored realisation of where I was truly hitting me, my returned smile was a little more reserved. I allowed my eyelids to gently close as my lips moulded to the edge of the cup. The sweet tea prickled my tongue and rolled down my throat with a pleasant burn; it was just what I needed.

I could feel myself being closely watched, and an unwelcome paranoia immediately burdened me. What was he thinking, I immediately questioned myself, what if he doesn't see a difference? What if he's disappointed? When I braved the opening of my eyes, my thoughts didn't seem at all valid. If they were, it didn't show. My dad was smiling as he watched me, red-eyed from his sobbing and strands of hair hanging loose from the knot they'd escaped from. The smile was a strange one – almost like he was beaming, almost like he would start bawling again at any second.

"...What is it?" I asked self-consciously, my fingers tightening around the mug's handle. His was the first of many questioning stares I was sure I would receive throughout the duration of my reunion. I wasn't sure how I was going to handle so many pairs of inquisitive eyes.

"Just look at you..." His voice was a mere whisper. He slowly shook his head and his gaze swept over me – briskly, but still seeming to catch every little detail they could. "You look so grown up, Midge. I can't believe my baby is twenty-two."

I wanted to retort a "neither can I", but I wasn't about to let my voice betray me and trigger my tears again. I distracted myself with three more large gulps of tea until the cup was drained. My dad still watched, still looked like he was about to break again. His sad smile merely pulled the corners of his lips further up.

"Where does the time go, huh?" He murmured. He followed the words up with a tight laugh that I couldn't mimic. The question had too much of a sad tint behind it.

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