12

~Avila

This morning, I woke to four maids crowding me.

They practically dragged me from bed and started dressing me, muttering about how my father returned from business.

Once I've been sufficiently dressed in suffocating clothing, I'm dragged downstairs to meet him.

Considering how I was prepared in the morning by the maids, I expected my father to be a stuffy, haughty man with too much power and little interest in me.

Much to my surprise, he immediately engulfed me in a warm, loving hug and launched into a spiel about how grateful he is that I'm alive, and how sorry he was to be held up on his attempt to return here.

I like him already.

Now, we sit at the table, enjoying a beautiful lunch that is far more exotic and lavish than anything I've had so far, when my father hasn't been home. I've piled my plate with so many foreign fruits that I have no more room for anything else of substance.

“I am so pleased you're back, Av," father exclaims, smiling at me.

I see the resemblance betwee