Father and son

Dawin froze where he stood as he saw those set of brown eyes looking at him. His mother, a blonde, brought a saddened and unpleased expression to his face, except for his little brother who sat fiddling with the fork in his hand and picking his teeth with it at intervals, every other person on the table, either irked him or disgusted him.

' You wouldn't neglect a meal your mother took her time to prepare, will you? '. He heard his father's voice across the table as he stalked away from them.

He paused in his track to give his father's question some silence. ' I have never rejected a meal from anyone but hers '. He answered and walked to the stairs. And as he left the dining, his mother turned to her husband with a sulked expression.

' I shouldn't have come. He doesn't like me. I choose to stay away '. She said and about leaving.

' He should be the one leaving and not you. I will see to this that this nonsense stop '. Mr. Philip encouraged as got up and leave as well. His feet took him to Dawin's room.

*

Dawin entered his room and threw his stuff aside. Grabbing the bedsheets, he pulled them out and threw them onto the floor. The mattress was where he went next and soon the bed was naked. His blood boiled as he imaged her in his head again. The hell of a mother, he thought, throwing himself onto the bed.

' Sir Dawin is anything the problem? '. The butler questioned, having heard the noises in the room.

' Get out!!!! '. Screamed Dawin, flinching the butler.

And when he was about to close the door, it was stopped from closing by the figure of his father appearing behind it. ' When did it become a crime to ask after your welfare? '.

Dawin sighed as he heard his father's voice. The least of his expectation. ' You too need to leave '. He said, changing the tone with which he had sent the butler out.

' Last time I checked, this is my house and I have the liability to enter any room I want to enter '.

Dawin furrowed his brows before sitting upright. Turning to him, he asked ' So, you are saying I should be the one to leave? '. His question brought with it the whirring of the fan and pages of books that flipped.

Mr. Philip moved to stand before Dawin after the long silence and looked him in the eye. ' Disrespecting my wife is disrespecting me. And anyone that disrespects me leaves my house '.

The whirring of fan and pages came to alive again.

Dawin looked hard at his father. The words of refute sat on his tongue but giving it a second thought, he remained silent. Times were different. Those times when he begged after such utterance had changed. Now, begging was seen as unmanly. Actions had to be taken precisely and wisely. He was no more a boy to fight for his father's love. He was an adult that could place his father between two options or at least provide a final decision for him. Thoughts ran in his head endlessly, searching for the right judgment.

' Fine them ' He said slamming his fist against his trousers and forcing himself up. ' I should have my leave '. Insolently, he dragged himself to the cupboards, stretching to bring his suitcase out.

His father had expected it anyway. So in time, he got himself prepared for the outcome. ' Your car would be seized, your accounts blocked and your allowance cut. I refuse to train a rebel '. He concluded in an authorizing tone and left the room, giving instructions to his men to carry out the seizure of his son's car and to his finance manager, he ordered to cut the allowance and block the accounts.