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C H A P T E R 92 - Dilara.
“I’ll take a look at it tomorrow.” As if that had suddenly been enough to put an end to the conversation, my father slammed the bonnet of my car shut, dusting his hands off on his jeans as he turned around to face me. I had been facing him this entire time, with crossed hands, and to say that I was unimpressed, was an understatement. Of all the things that had been happening, this had to go onto the list too. I was slowly but surely starting to become hopeless, feeling like it was just one thing after the other that was going wrong. It was like I just couldn’t catch a break. “Tomorrow? I’m supposed to be leaving tomorrow.” My father lifted his shoulders in a shrug, and I realised that this wasn’t going to be an argument that I was going to win. My father was just as stubborn as I was
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