4/11 Our Sweet Love || j.hs ✔️

Chapter 2

"Yes?" He asks. I look down at my black heels that click against the sidewalk as we walk up to my father's company. "I'll think about it." I say in a low whisper as I bite my lip. He grins. "I really want to get to know you Faith.. You're a mystery.. And I like mystery." He says. I stare at him. "I'm easier to read than you think." He takes a step closer to me. "But maybe I don't want to read you all at once." He tilts his head to the side causing his bangs to fall in his face.

"Maybe I want to take my time with you.." He says in a soft tone. I inch away from him, maybe hoping that he can't heart my heart pounding. "I said I'll think about it.. Okay?" I ask taking a step back. A smirk plays on his face. He runs his fingers through his hair forcing his bangs out of his face. "Okay." He smiles almost making me lose my breath. With my hand on the door handle of the glass door, I pull it open a bit.

I look at him with no expression what so ever and nod, the serious me had invaded my being. I couldn't even offer him a smile. I see him bite his lip. I turn to head into the building. I feel his eyes burning holes into my back as I leave his sight.

**

"So.. Why do you need me if Hoon could just take over the company? I don't get why I need to take over." He frowns at me, his beard making him look old. "This has nothing to do with Hoon. Okay? You are my daughter. There shouldn't have to be an explanation. I don't want anyone else to run this company except for my own blood." I narrow my eyebrows at his stupid response. "Hoon, is your nephew. He's your blood too." I say. He fixes his tie.

"But did he come from my.." I smack my hand on the desk, he didn't flinch as if not intimidated by me. "No! He didn't but that doesn't mean he can't take over this company!" I yell. He lifts an eyebrow. "Is that a way to talk to your father?" He asks in a calm voice.

"No. But you're not listening to me. I don't want this company dad. I don't want it what so ever. I want nothing to do with this company or with you. I'm 32 for crying out loud. I can make my own decisions. And just because mom hesitated when she walked out doesn't mean I wont." I say dumb strucking him. His eyes stare into mine. "Your mother has nothing to do with this." He says. I stand up quickly almost throwing the chair back.

"Its never about anyone! Just me! Why dad!?" I yell. His eyebrows knit together. "You are all I have left! Do you think I want to let the only thing I have in my life go to some worthless and pathetic dream career!?" He spits back. "And may I say! Isn't even a career! Where do you plan to go in life with a pathetic job like that!?" He yells. I don't have anything left to say to him. I turn towards the glass door.

"Where are you going!? I'm not done talking to you!" Before I walk out I take one last look at him. "Well I am." I say.

**

I look at the blank canvas in my art studio. My tears running down my face as I think of my life, thinking of my dad, of my mom. I then grab my paint brush. I dab the brush into my navy blue paint and glide it up and down the canvas, making lines and streaks. Cleaning my brush then dabbing it into my paint again, making darker lines. Before I knew it I was making shapes, my hand doing its own things.

My hands doing motions naturally, like grabbing colors that I needed. My tears flowed more and more out of my eyes, tears of frustration, sadness, and anger. I was out of breath, and emotionally exhausted. I look down at my messy hands. Then up at my master piece.

I had painted my dad, standing tall, with that demonic look on his face as he had me like a puppet. The small person that looked like me, limp on the ground with strings attached to the figure. I frown at what I've drawn. This is how I saw my father. And he doesn't realize what he's done to me. I then stare at the canvas, blankly. Tears no longer fled my eyes, wondering whether or not if I should keep it or toss it. I make my decision.