Hot Daddy: My Beautiful Morning
Me - Kejora Aditama
...♡♡♡...
...PLEASE BE WISE IN READING....
...¤ THIS STORY GENRE ROMANCE HOT 21...
...¤ THERE ARE ELEMENTS *SEXUAL AND HARDNESS...
...¤ NOT FOR MINORS...
...PLEASE, GIVE LIKE IF YOU LIKE MY WRITING....
...HAPPY READING!...
...♡♡♡...
As always, every year my father always celebrated my birthday: Kejora Aditama, his favorite daughter. But usually my birthday celebrations are never this grand. Perhaps it was because it was my sweet seventheen moment, so he wanted to please me by preparing this party as much as possible.
All my school friends are coming. Happy birthday greetings alternately I receive complete with cipika cipiki - kiss the right cheek and then kiss the left cheek ala child gaul metropolitan city. They filled the porch of my father's magnificent house like that palace and made a noise typical of high school children. Jovial chirps and laughter filled the atmosphere of the open room. Yeah, a little silence just happened in the moments when I blew out the candles, all the attention of the invited guests was on me, and after that the atmosphere came back boisterous. A big birthday cake with pink candy has been cut and divided. The first cut I gave to my father, Daddy Gibran Aditama. He deserves it because he gave me life. He - the mediator that God has sent me.
"Thank you, honey" he said, plus a warm kiss landed on my forehead.
Ah, finally her voice was heard after a while ago when she looked stunned when she first saw me with a princess-style makeup - even without a prince by my side. I wore a soft pink long dress with two small straps on the left-right shoulder, matching my curly hair dangling and adorned with small flops.
Then, the second piece for my dear grandmother, Oma Yulia Aditama. The elderly woman I called oma -- with the softness of her hand I grew up, from the figure of a red baby to now has transformed into a beautiful girl nan beautiful. She gave the affection of a grandmother - and a mother to me. Really, she's an amazing woman, isn't she?
That night, everyone seemed to be full because the food at the table was gone, leaving dirty dishes and empty glasses scattered everywhere.
Live music is still melodious. My friends, high school teen boys, came up on stage and sang for the happy day. Their discordant voices made the invited guests flounder. They joked, made loud jokes, mocked each other, and chimed in on each other.
But tonight she made me happy. As he promised, he came and dressed up. He almost never wears a party suit, but tonight his appearance is much different from his daily life. His age who had stepped on the figure of thirty-seven years was covered by the appearance of his true face.
"That's a joy, dear!" a woman standing next to Daddy. She's Auntie Sila, next door neighbor of a newly divorced house with her husband four months ago. He was young, thirty-four years old. Lately he often asked me about my father's news and when my father came home. Maybe he meant well, but to be honest I was disgusted because he always asked about Daddy every time we accidentally crossed paths, or he played home: 'Bre: she said to accompany the lonely Oma while I was at school. Just like his son, Riko. My childhood best friend who is now back to being friendly and good-ass to me. In fact, for the past few years, we have never even said hello. Yeah, yeah, maybe they're actually good people. But. gelagat PDKTnya that makes me feel very uncomfortable in their presence.
Well, I nodded and smiled a little smile to make it look friendly to him - just like I do every time Auntie Sila greets me. "Yes, it's so festive!" I cried out loudly to be heard by him because rock music was playing.
"Your father's great!" timpal Aunt Sila glanced at Daddy.
Practically, I took a glance. "Of course!" my reply. "He's the greatest dad in the world. I guess I should say a special thank you after the party breaks up."
"Ah, could have been you, dear. This is appropriate for Daddy's favorite daughter," he said with his typical calm attitude. "By the way, Daddy put a present in your room. Daddy hope you like it."
I shook my head strongly. "I don't want any gifts. I just want to spend the rest of the semester with Daddy. The please? I beg?"
Oma elbowed her son loudly. "Filling," he said. "His half a year waiting for you to come home. Don't disappoint!"
For some reason, despite nodding, I saw rejection in Daddy's eyes.
What's wrong with my request, Dad? I miss you so much.
I realized that my father had changed since I was a young boy. In fact, he began to keep his distance from me after I sat in High School. Although our communication was still quite smooth, I still felt like I had lost my father figure in my life.
I know my status, I'm not his real son. But this situation is really painful. Until I ask, if this is -- why did he adopt me as a child? Wh-wh-what for?
Why is this -- just because the blood is not flowing in my body, what relationship should we be so tenuous like this?
Oh my God, now I'm back feeling wasted.
