The first time I cried after dad . . . was in the arms of my wife.
We were only fourteen years old and the pressure to date from everyone who knew us was starting to feel insurmountable. Charlie's eyes shone a darker shade of brown back then. Her hair was just at the beginning of looking curly instead of frizzy and her lanky figure had already given way to soft curves and other beautiful body parts that I had to force myself to stop looking at.
I had fought with Christian that day. I didn't mean to be mad at him and I was usually good at keeping calm even as a child, but that day - he said something that really hurt me during our fight, without intending to do so.
"I don't think he would have liked me." He suddenly screamed at me and pushed me hard. "I don't even look like him. I loo
Aksara