You sat at your desk, the light from your desk lamp flickering softly as you tried to focus on your studies. The quiet of the room seemed to press against you, making the air feel thick and heavy. Your body was exhausted, but your mind refused to rest. That’s when the familiar ache in your chest came—sharply, without warning. The pain was sudden, making it hard to breathe, and you clutched your shirt over your heart, struggling to steady yourself.

Without thinking, you pushed yourself up from the desk, your legs unsteady as you stumbled toward your father’s room. You knew he was probably still working, buried in his documents. The mansion was eerily silent as you walked down the long hall, the only sound your uneven footsteps. Your vision blurred for a moment, the pain in your chest intensifying with each passing second.

You reached the door to your father’s office and hesitated, leaning against the doorframe for support. Evander was seated at his desk, his attention absorbed by the papers in front of him. He barely looked up as you entered, his expression as cold and indifferent as always.

“Dad...” you whispered, your voice shaky, the pain making it hard to speak. “I...I can’t breathe. It hurts...”

He didn’t even blink as his eyes scanned the documents in front of him, the cold indifference in his gaze cutting deeper than the physical pain. You took a hesitant step forward, hoping for some kind of reaction—anything that would show he cared.

Before you could say another word, his eyes flicked up to meet yours, and without warning, his hand lashed out. The slap was quick, sharp, and it left your cheek stinging. The sting of his hand faded quickly, but the sting of his rejection remained.

“Stop whining.” he snapped, his voice cold as ice. “You’re always like this, complaining over nothing.”

You stood there, silent, the distance between you and the man who should have cared growing. His eyes stayed on his papers, and the ache in your chest deepened.