My girlfriend and I were happy—at least, I thought we were. Then, overnight, everything changed. A message.
A warning to stay away. No explanation. Just silence.
But something felt wrong. The more I searched for answers, the more I realized the truth was far worse than I ever imagined. I was sitting in the park, waiting for my girlfriend, Rachel.
We had been together for almost two years. I considered it a serious relationship, but I wasn’t sure if she felt the same way. The thing was, I had only seen her father, Andrew, once—and even then, just in passing.
He owned a small hotel where he and Rachel lived. I had spoken to him only once when I came to pick Rachel up for a date. He stood at the reception desk, glaring at me like I had no right to be there.
“Do you think you should be dating boys? Broke up with him!” I overheard him ask Rachel. “Dad, I’m 24.
And I love him,” she replied, her voice firm. “Stop this or…” His words trailed off as he noticed me listening. Our eyes met, and I quickly looked away.
That hadn’t been long ago. Even before that, Rachel had made one thing clear—I wasn’t welcome at the hotel. We had a great relationship—I loved her—but this situation bothered me.
I had introduced her to my parents long ago. She had even joined family dinners, laughing with my mom, talking to my dad. I looked up and saw Rachel approaching.
My face lit up. She reached me, her hair catching the sunlight, and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. “How are you?” Rachel asked, her voice warm.
I looked at her, my smile fading. My heart pounded. I needed to say it, but the words felt heavy.
“We need to talk,” I said. Rachel’s brow furrowed. “Talk about what?”
I hesitated, then met her eyes.
“Do you take this relationship seriously? Us?”
She blinked, looking almost offended. “Of course, I do.
What kind of question is that?”
“Then why won’t you let me meet your father?” I asked. Rachel let out a slow breath. “Ed, you’ve met him before.”
“You know what I mean,” I said.
“Why can’t it be real? Why can’t I talk to him like your boyfriend, not some stranger?”
Rachel crossed her arms. “I told you.
My father’s strict. Controlling. He won’t accept this.”
“Is that the only reason?” I pressed.
Rachel softened. “Yes. Ed, I love you.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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