Page 91 of Tall, Royal Hater
Or so I thought.
Shehryar
After my mother spoke to me about getting a thank-you gift for Mariyah during our shopping trip later in the day, I had every intention of hunting down the slippery menace and talking to her about her escape last night and everything that happened before.
Thankfully, I had her mobile number from university in case of emergencies, so I whipped out my phone to call her—whether she would answer or not, or still had my number saved was another question entirely. But when I was scrolling through my contacts to find her name, a notification popped up at the top of the screen, and I came to an abrupt stop in everything I was doing.
It was an email.
From an A. Platmon.
My father.
I stared unblinking at my phone, my hands tightening around it with every thud of my heart.
I felt numb. No, not numb exactly, rather hot and cold at the same time. Whether I should have been annoyed that he took more than a whole day to reply to my initial email afterhewas the one who wanted me to get in contact with him or surprised that he replied so quickly remembering the man I’d once known, I wasn’t sure. Neither could I pinpoint the curdling sensation in my chest.
My screen dimmed before turning black. Staring at my own pinched expression, I slowly regained function of my mind and body. My jaw set firm.
I didn’t want to delay reading his reply, nor did I want to open the email out in the corridor. I needed privacy, quiet, and seclusion.
I swung around, my phone clasped in one fist, and headed towards the stairs. My strides remained swift but steady all the way to my room.
Once inside, I locked the door behind me and sat on the velvet chaise at the end of the bed. I swallowed slowly before tapping my five-digit password on the screen and clicking on the email notification. I sat so stiffly, there was a tight bite between my shoulder blades.
Re: Shehryar
A. Platmon
To: me
Hello Shehryar,
When I asked your mother if you might be willing to contact me, I was almost certain you wouldn’t be. So, when I saw your email, I couldn’t believe it.Thank you for emailing me when I know I haven’t given you any reason to want to be in contact with me.
I understand you’re angry about me speaking to your mother, but I did not know what else to do. She was my only way of finding out how you were. Now that I have a way to communicate with you, I will refrain from emailing her.
You’re in Touma I heard. As am I. Would you be willing to meet me in person? Whenever you are available. I would arrange everything if that’s easier.
There’s a lot I owe you an explanation and apology for, but I would rather we speak about it in person than over email. Too much needs to be said and the least I can do is tell you while looking you in the eyes.
If there is still any hope of you recognising me as your father, please allow me this request. And if there is no hope, then take this as your opportunity to question me.
Sincerely,
Andrew Platmon
By the time I read to the end of the email, my heart was battering against my rib cage, pumping hot blood through throbbing veins filled with rusted nails.
Outraged. Baffled. Confused. Irked. Curious. Vengeful. I felt so much, all crossing over each other so quickly, the friction charred the ends of my nerves.
He hadn’t technically said anything wrong. But everything inside me rejected and scorned the calm, almost earnest tone of the email, when what I remembered of Andrew Platmon was dark, cold eyes, a dismissive demeanour, and a tonne of broken promises and assurances.
He turned his back on Mother.He turned his back on me. His son. His fucking flesh and blood. All because money mattered more. So, it didn’t make sense to me that he suddenly wanted to be a part of my life, that he wanted to see me when he kicked me out of his house for wanting to see him.
A sharp noise scraped across my eardrums as I rubbed my teeth together. The sound jarred my brain and set me back in the room. Trying to relax my jaw before I destroyed my teeth, I looked away from my phone screen, but my gaze ultimately ended up scanning the email again.
Why? Why now? What the fuck does he want from me?
