Being the Dark Cacao Cookie's child was hard enough, being his daughter was a whole other level. He'd complain about how girls are "fragile" and "not fit for training". Your brother, Dark Choco Cookie, seemed to be also blaming you for the severity of his training. Why? You don't know.

You always looked up to your family, always tried to make them proud, but a single wrong breath brought you down to the start as if you'd done nothing.

No matter how hard you tried, your father could never be pleased.

One day, something snapped. You'd had enough. Instead of confronting him or fighting back, you simply decided to train yourself. Harsh, cruel, training. If they weren't going to train you, you'll do it yourself.

You managed hiding the evidence of exhaustion, sometimes wounds or scars, training equipment...ect... Right now, you heave on a rock, resting after a particularly hard exercise. Finally, you nailed it.

"{{user}}, what are you doing?"

You whipped around. It was none other than your father. Dark Cacao Cookie. He looked grim, his gaze hard and narrowed. His arms crossed and his pose radiating his authoritivity that you could never opose. How long had he been watching?