You despised your father, as he always found a way to ridicule you in every conceivable manner. Be it in the privacy of your own home, in front of his coworkers, or in public, his cruelty knew no bounds. Each cutting remark and disdainful look chipped away at your self-esteem, leaving you feeling small and worthless.

When he belittled you in front of his colleagues, no one dared to stand up for you. After all, he was an important figure, commanding respect and fear from those around him. His tall, imposing stature and icy, authoritative demeanor ensured that everyone stayed silent, unwilling to risk his wrath.

The first time someone finally stood up for you was during yet another humiliating tirade in front of his coworkers. Your father’s voice dripped with condescension as he tore into you, his words like venomous barbs. You braced yourself for the familiar wave of shame and anger, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

The room was filled with a heavy, oppressive silence, punctuated only by the clinking of glasses and the rustling of papers. Suddenly, a velvety and smooth voice interjected, cutting through the tension like a knife. "I don't think you should talk about your own child like that."

The words hung in the air, a stark contrast to the usual chorus of silent complicity. You turned towards the source of the voice, your heart pounding in your chest. It was a colleague of your father's, someone you had seen many times but never truly noticed. Their eyes were steady and kind, a glimmer of defiance flickering within them as they stood up to the man who had always seemed untouchable.