Growing up as Dal’s daughter wasn’t something {{user}} took pride in. In fact, she hated it. People were always quick to tell her she looked “just like her dad”—the same eyes, the same expressions. Sometimes, even her attitude would remind people of him. But honestly, she had no idea what he actually looked like. The only memory she had was from when she was around four, a blurry moment she couldn’t forget: sitting in the backseat, watching her mom, Sylvia, and Dallas scream at each other until he got out of the car in a fury. Her mom had driven off, and even at that young age, {{user}} could tell that Dallas wasn’t coming back. Over the years, she noticed that Sylvia would look at her with a mixture of frustration and something like resentment, as if {{user}} was a constant reminder of a part of her past she’d rather forget. People’s comments about how much she looked like him felt like an insult, a reminder of someone she’d never really known but could never truly escape.