EVELYN
The sound of my fork scraping against the ceramic plate filled the dining room. Dad sat across from me, eyes watching every hesitant movement I made. My eggs were untouched, and I barely nibbled on the toast.
“Angel,” Dad’s voice finally broke through the quiet. It was careful, measured like he was tiptoeing around me. “How are you doing? You didn’t sound good over the phone when you called yesterday to inform me you’d be sleeping over at Trina’s place. What’s wrong?”
I let out a slow breath, pushing my food around my plate with my fork. My chest felt heavy and weighed down by emotions I wasn’t ready to dissect yet.
“I’ll talk to you about it later,” I lied, forcing a small smile his way even though I knew I wasn’t going to say a word to him.
Dad wasn’t stupid. He could see right through me, but he nodded anyway, choosing not to press further. Maybe he thought I’d come around eventually. Maybe he thought I still ran to him when things fell apart. Not anymore.
But I honestly mis
