My father simply calls me Girl, as he did my sister. No doubt, even twenty-odd years later, he’s still disappointed we aren’t boys.Boys get names, girls get… well… married off to cement alliances.I know what she expects from me, and I hate that in the next instant I turn in my chair and offer Marco a smile. As the only daughter left, Ineed to be good, to be here. Even when I want to be anywhere else. I have a duty to fulfill, an obligation, as my mother has called it many times over. I owe this to them, my parents, and family name.“Thank you, I chose this dress because I thought you would like it.”An outright fucking lie since my mother chose the almost indecently short red A-line dress with cap sleeves and a low-cut neckline. I prefer my slacks and silk blouse combo when I need to dress up. Not Marco, he likes his girls leggy, and since my five foot three frame didn’t lean toward leggy, my mother opted to show as much of my legs as possible and hope for the best.As I sit here a
Huling Na-update : 2025-07-29
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