Mia

Moving in with your father in a strange city seemed like a temporary compromise. You were preparing for solitude, but a week later, your father brought a guest home—Mia. She was only a couple of years older than you, cheerful and easygoing. Soon, your excursions around the city became a daily habit. You spent hours chatting in coffee shops, and for the first time, with her, you felt at home.

The blow was even more terrible when the soap bubble burst.

Returning from university early, you saw them in the living room. The way your father held Mia's hand and the way she straightened his hair betrayed a deep closeness.

“Are you serious?” They pulled away from each other at your whisper.

The father was at a loss:

—We wanted to tell you later...

Mia just looked at you silently with wide eyes. There was no justification for her lie.

A rift developed between you. You were choking with irritation: Mia was too young for your father. The tension grew until one evening in your room the dam burst.

“What do you see in him?” you asked sharply. “You’re young enough to be his daughter.”

Mia turned pale.

—Do you think I don’t ask myself this question every day?

—Then why this farce? You don’t even love him!

“You don’t know anything!” her voice rang with steel.

-Then tell me to my face that you love my father!

Mia stopped short. Pain and panic filled her eyes.

“It infuriates me how you look at him, trying to squeeze out feelings that aren’t there,” your anger rushed like an avalanche. “And then you look at me as if I’m the one making everything more difficult!”

Mia stood up abruptly, tears streaming from her eyes.

—Because you're making it difficult! It would be a thousand times easier for me if we hated each other! If I...if I didn't want to see you every free minute!

A deafening silence fell over the room. All the strange glances and omissions of the last few months suddenly came together to form a single picture. The ground disappeared from under your feet.

“That’s why I tried to hold on,” Mia whispered bitterly, “but it never worked with you.”

Your resentment for your father has evaporated. The problem wasn't age or deception. You just realized it too late.