Novel & Cerita I'm Not Your Perfect Mexican Daughter

She knew. My father turned and ran into my room. He searched frantically. He found my small notebook at the bottom of my tool chest. His hands were shaking so badly he could barely hold it. He opened the first page. The handwriting was young, from years ago. "Iris had another episode today. My mother said it was because my training scores were better than hers. I will not practice so hard next time." My father's tears fell on the pages. He turned them one by one.

"Nat… what happened to you? Don't scare me, please…" I reached out with what little strength I had left and held the trophy toward her. "Mom… am I your perfect daughter now?"

"How would your parents be disappointed? You're not even their biological daughter…" The moment the words left his mouth, Aaron quickly corrected himself. "Besides, don't they already have another daughter now? And college entrance exam scores don't define a person anyway. You're talented no matter where you go. You'll shine anywhere." Remembering what the floating comments had said, I stared directly into his eyes. "What about Yvonne Brooks?" "Her?" Aaron sneered with obvious disdain. "That real daughter they just brought back? She has no manners and no class. Even if she gets into university, she won't amount to much."

I screamed at her , my temper getting the best of me “ I’m your daughter! The girl you are supposed to love but you don’t because you can’t because you only want to love someone who is perfect ! “I looked at her my voice cracking “ But you know what mum , I can’t be perfect daughter , just like you can’t be a perfect mother . Since you cannot accept me just the way I’m , I don’t see the point of staying with you in one house and adding misery to each others life “ “ You honestly ! I’m tired of being pointed at ! You think I’m at fault ? You want to blame me ? Sure go ahead ! But let me tell you , you can keep your head buried in the sand like an ostrich ignoring all your flaws but when Jaco

He extended his slender arm, lifting her up. Suddenly, she found herself immersed in a embrace full of masculine charm, listening to the powerful and resolute heartbeat from Lorneauxs' chest, over and over again, as if enticing her. Unconsciously, a blush spread across Claire's cheeks. Clutching her small hands tightly, Claire closed her eyes in pain, making an effort to endure, so as not to lose control and grasp Lorneauxs' neck. He was her stepfather's son, her big brother; she couldn't cross that line.

“Don’t worry, my little one, About the world’s cruelty outside. To me, you are perfect, And the Goddess will still protect us. You are my life, my sun, my guiding star, And I’ll be here every day, To love you, protect you, make you smile, My beloved daughter, my greatest reason to exist.” “Daughter? Where is my mother?” I sniffled, saddened by the connection. “I need you, Mom. I’m scared.” I continued to hum softly, hearing her sweet voice in my mind. Exhausted by the pain and tears, I drifted to sleep. My mind felt as if it were being pulled into a strange place.

MIRELLA I’ve always tried to live a perfect life—just to please my father. Just the way he likes it. Being the daughter of the Prosecutor General isn’t as easy as people think. From the outside, it looks like luck—like I was born with a silver spoon, surrounded by luxury, untouched by struggle. But the truth is very different. I spent most of my childhood learning how to be perfect. Smiling when I was supposed to. Saying the right things. Playing the role of the happy daughter in a family that always looked flawless from the outside.

Mary's words consoled me as I don't care about what anyone says about me, as long as she doesn't hate me or see me as a bad person. “Okay, that's alright. Let's have our seat and eat before it runs cold,” I stated as I disengaged from the hug and pulled a chair for her. My daughter is my pride, the only thing I have achieved in life. Many of my friends are envious of my perfect life with my perfect daughter, and I’ll do anything to make sure she’s happy and her life remains perfect and got everything she has ever dreamed of. We ate silently at the dining table, and then she posed a question about her father.

“That ‘woman’ is your mother too.” Miranda scoffed. “Mother? Please. She’s the same person who always favored you. Don’t act like she didn’t. Now look at you, showing up after all these years, pretending to be the perfect daughter.” I blinked slowly. “Perfect? Miranda, I’m not even trying to be perfect. I just am who I am. You’re the one who sees it as a threat.” Her eyes flashed with irritation. Exactly what I expected. “Oh, so you’re perfect without trying?” she asked. “Wow, the confidence. I’m impressed. Disgusted, but impressed. You sure have grown wings”