That afternoon, when her pretend-father showed up, acting like he got busy checking up on the market for the potential client where they could deliver their fruits for the harvest, he went home with an obviously tired face.
“Dad,” Celine called, immediately getting into her little drama that he is her father.
“Oh, Celine, you’re here.” Roel went to Celine and acted like a real father who was so excited to see his daughter that he even smiled.
“You’re with him?” He looked at Callahan, who stood formally. “Boyfriend?” he joked, but his strict voice was so believable—how fathers would make a joke about their daughter but glare in a judging way at the boys their daughter has brought home, like how Roel looked at Callahan from head to foot.
“Ah, no. He’s only my schoolmate,” Celine explaine
