Lydia' sPoint Of View
I watched my father for a moment after his last words settled in the room. His expression had changed into something colder, something settled. When he looked like that, he had already made a decision.
"What are you going to do, Dad?" I asked.
He did not answer immediately. His gaze drifted toward the large windows, then returned to me. His fingers rested against his knee, tapping once as if measuring patience.
"What I should have done a long time ago," he said.
His tone carried quiet irritation.
"I've given them too much space," he continued. "Enough room to forget who they're dealing with."
I leaned back slightly, studying him.
"They think they can insult me," he added.
His jaw shifted as he spoke.
"They think distance means freedom."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. The movement was calm and deliberate. He unlocked it, scrolled briefly through his contacts, then stopped.
