Father's First Warning
As we were leaving, I lingered to close a window. Father caught me in the shadows of the porch. "Luke," his voice was a low rasp, thick with warning. "Listen to me. This girl... she's not right for you." My temple throbbed. "Dad, you've only met her once!" He waved a dismissive, irritated hand, refusing to explain. "Know the roots. Cut your losses now, spare yourself... the pain later." In the dim light, his features looked carved from stone. He turned abruptly and went inside. The lock clicked shut. I stood alone on the cold steps, my heart sinking.
Sara's Confusion
The drive home was silent. Rain drummed a monotonous rhythm on the windshield. Finally, Sara couldn't bear it. "Luke," she whispered, "Did I do something wrong? Your father... he seemed to dislike me intensely." How could I answer? Tell her he dropped coffee at the sight of her? That he watched her like a suspect? That he warned me to divorce her? I took a deep breath, my knuckles whitening on the wheel. "It's nothing, Sara. He's just... eccentric like that. With everyone. Don't take it personally." The lie rang hollow even to me. Sara murmured "Okay," turned to the window, and didn't speak another word.
The Haunting Stare
After that, his unsettling gaze became a fixture at family gatherings. Thanksgiving, amidst the living room chatter and laughter, he sat hunched in a corner armchair, whiskey in hand. His eyes were glued to Sara. She was recounting a story about a mischievous student, drawing laughs. Only Father stared through the crowd, his gaze locked onto her smiling face as if deciphering some cryptic code, heavy enough to choke the air. It held no affection, no admiration. A wave of nausea hit me. I rose abruptly, blocking his line of sight. "Dad, top up your drink?" He blinked, his gaze darting away. "Fine," he mumbled, lifting his glass dismissively.
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