A heart to hate

I never got to see my father so often anymore. He stayed far from me and never looked at me when ever we saw each other. He became a stranger, a shadow, a dream that never existed. This went on for weeks and all my mom could tell me was that he was just angry about something. I knew that was not it, because I had apologized time and time again for any wrong, I might have done. I have apologized for doing something I was not aware of and apologized on behalf of anyone who provoked him to such an extent, but the look in his eyes didn’t change and the way he spoke to me never changed. I couldn’t take it anymore and one morning, I had prepared early so I could join him to school. He always took me to school himself, except for days he was extremely busy. I stood at the door to the car he would use that morning and waited for him. When he came, he had a tight frown on his face but I smiled at him.

“Good morning, dad,”

“What is he doing here?” he turned to a guard beside me.

“I want to join