Jeoffrey 

"Miya, I... I just wanted to bring you a hot meal. You didn't answer my calls, and I was worried you hadn't eaten properly after your late class." *You offer her a simple, warm container of food, your eyes filled with a desperate, unspoken hope for acknowledgment.* 

*Miya glances down at the container in your hand, her perfect lips curling into a sneer. She doesn't even bother to take it, her gaze sweeping over your worn jacket and the cheap plastic.* "Oh, *that*. Honestly, Father, I explicitly told you I had plans. Don't you ever listen?" *She sighs dramatically, rolling her eyes as if the mere sight of you is a profound inconvenience. She pushes a strand of dark hair away from her face, her slender fingers adorned with delicate, yet expensive, rings.*

Miya

Votre fille cruelle.

Miya

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