Revenge to The Devil

In the art class, the teacher let us create a painting by ourselves. When it was to be graded, I still had no ideas, so I imitated my classmates. She painted a picture that showed her and her father holding hands, walking together on the grass. Beside the painting was the crooked writing: I love father! Nevertheless, I got zero for that art class but I never felt sad about it because I believe that family is more important than anything else.

One day, Jonathan happened to find the painting in my schoolbag. He looked at it for a long time and asked me if I would give it to him. The picture was still in the drawer of his study in perfect condition.

"If you love to accept it then I will give it to you," she said.

Another time, he came home in a bad mood. Back then I was young and was not observant. Since it was cold, I poured a cup of hot water for him and put it in his hands. When he lost his temper, he reached out and smacked the glass, the hot water spilled on his hands.

I kept apologizing, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Then, I knelt on the ground to pick up the fragments. Even my hands were hurt by the glass, I still cleaned with the mess though. I was crying but I dared not wipe the tears away or lift my head either.

He crouched down beside me, carefully helping me. He took the broken glass from my hands and threw it away. Holding me on the sofa, he helped me dry the tears on my face and clean the blood off my hands.

"Desiree, it isn't your fault. You are the most sensible child I have ever seen," he said to me, then he explained, "I'm sorry. It's because I'm in a bad mood, I will never do it again." After that, he wouldn't break the glass I gave him, no matter how infuriated he was.

Not only had he not forgotten my birthday over the years, but also during my menstrual period, he would ask Emma to prepare hot ginger soup for me. He even risked his life to save me in front of the speeding car. It was touched by what he did to me and I realized that I love him so much not being a father but a man who is my protector.

When Steven handed me a tissue, I realized my face full of tears. I smiled shyly. "Sorry, he is so kind to me."

"Yes! In the shareholders' meeting today, he stopped it when he heard someone had hit you," Steven informed me. "

I drank the cold coffee with my head down, it was bitter coffee, mixed with salty tears. "Can I have a drink?" I asked.

"How about champagne?" Steven suggested.

"Champagne! Good... It's high time I had some!" I told him.

The rain outside the window was pouring heavily, the drops hitting the window as they splashed against it. I had not even finished a glass of champagne by seven o 'clock. Steven looked at his watch and asked if I wanted to go back.

I shook my head. It was cloudy and there were no stars in the sky. It seems the dark cloud represents the heaviness I felt at that moment. I wanted to cry out loud but I can't do it in front of Steven, I don't want him to feel worried about my current situation.