His After The Heartbreak (BL)
Chapter 214: Who Is Going To Bring The Car Back

Chapter 214: Who Is Going To Bring The Car Back

Chapter 214- Who Is Going To Bring The Car Back?

I don’t even know how I’m still alive.

My whole room looked like a tornado had danced through it, and I was the only survivor left trying to make sense of the disaster. I was running around, screaming like a maniac, and I didn’t even notice when I threw all the clothes I had been arranging straight onto the floor like an angry clown.

"NO. No, no, no, no. What the actual fuck," I shouted, staring at the clothes now scattered all over the place like trash in a dump.

I was supposed to be getting ready. But instead, I was tearing things apart.

"I’m officially ruined," I groaned, dragging my hands through my hair in pure frustration.

Then I looked up—and there he was.

My dad.

Laughing.

Laughing like life was a comedy show and I was the joke. He was sitting there, mouth wide open, grinning like an idiot and still pressing his phone like the world wasn’t on fire.

After all the stress he put me through?

He was chilling.

Like nothing happened.

"Fuck." I muttered again, louder this time, hoping the walls would at least sympathize with me since my dad clearly wouldn’t.

I was still yelling at the top of my lungs when I heard him sigh heavily like he was the one being stressed out.

He better not be frustrated. He has no right.

Because the only one losing his mind right now is me.

I closed my eyes, took in a shaky breath, and tried to calm down. Maybe if I just breathe and focus, I could do this. Maybe this time I could actually pack like a normal human.

But no. Of course not.

Because five minutes later, my shirt was inside the shoes, my underwear was in the toiletry bag, and my bag zipper was stuck.

That’s it.

I lost it.

I threw the box over and stood up like someone had lit my ass on fire. "I’m done! I’m tired! Cancel the trip! Cancel my name! Cancel my grades! I’m not going again!"

I yelled, then crashed down to the floor dramatically and picked up my phone like I had nothing left to live for.

I was done.

From the corner of my eye, I saw my dad glance up from his phone. His face was straight, and I knew something annoying was coming.

"You’re so lazy," he said, voice calm and smug. "When I was your age, I already knew how to do ten times more than you. Packing a bag? Come on. You’re throwing tantrums over that?"

He stood up from the bed, dropped his phone beside him, and just stared at me like I was the biggest disappointment ever created.

And honestly? That kind of made it worse.

"You don’t have the right to advise me," I snapped, not even looking up. "Not when you didn’t help me with anything."

He shrugged. "I wanted to help, but you were too mean. So I figured I’d return the favor. Be mean right back. Mind my business."

I blinked.

Wait.

What?

His phone was on the bed.

That meant...

He dropped his phone so he could help me?

"Oh fuck," I muttered under my breath, realization smacking me in the face.

I looked up at him slowly. "I’m... I’m sorry, Dad," I said, dragging the words out like they were made of thorns.

He raised a brow. "Can’t hear you."

I rolled my eyes hard. He definitely heard me the first time. But whatever. I needed his help.

"I said I’m sorry, Daddy. Please help me pack. I swear I’ll respect you and I’ll stop being mean," I said clearly, my voice full of fake humility and real desperation.

He nodded slowly, satisfied, like I was a servant who had just begged for mercy. Then he stood up properly, stretched, and dropped his phone back on the bed.

"Good. Now move. Go to the other side and sit down so I can focus," he said.

I didn’t waste a second. I jumped up and ran to the bed before he could change his mind. I sat quietly like an obedient dog and watched him like my life depended on it.

Which, honestly, it did.

I picked up his phone and checked the time.

25 minutes left.

Oh shit.

I wanted to tell him to hurry up, to move faster, to pack like a robot. But I knew better. My dad didn’t like being rushed. He would just stop and give me a life lecture.

So I shut up.

"He knows the time. He knows I’ve got 25 minutes left. So it’s his business now," I whispered to myself, squeezing the phone like it owed me something.

I just had to hope... pray... and try not to cry.

I just sat there... staring at him.

After few minutes.

He suddenly stood up from the floor like someone pressed a button in him, and I blinked, confused.

Why was he standing up now?

Wait... wasn’t he supposed to be arranging? I mean, time was running out. I had barely 25 minutes left before I was supposed to be in school, and he was just—what? Stretching?

"What are you doing?" I asked, eyebrows pulled together. "Why are you standing up now, Dad?"

He looked at me like I was the slow one. "You’re seriously asking that?" he said, lifting one eyebrow.

Then he tilted his head toward the box.

"You can’t see that I’m done?"

My eyes followed his, and that’s when I saw it.

The box was closed.

I blinked.

Then blinked again.

Wait... what?

He was done?!

I literally sat here self-pitying for almost an hour while this man packed everything in just a few minutes?

"Wow."

"Ooooh wow," I said again, just for emphasis.

I was honestly impressed. If only I could hire him permanently.

My own personal luggage arranger. That would be perfect. I imagined it—me lounging on the bed, sipping juice while Dad packed my clothes like a loyal butler.

Pure bliss.

I smiled like a fool at the daydream, until his voice yanked me back to reality.

"You better stop daydreaming and start arranging those clothes on the floor into your wardrobe."

Wardrobe.

That’s the word I was looking for.

"Ugh," I groaned, dragging my eyes toward the mess of clothes still lying on the ground like they had been punched in the face.

"Nope. I’m not doing that," I said, shaking my head and giving him the fakest smile I could pull off. "I’m going to leave it there. And after I come back, I’m still not touching it. That’s a job for our beloved house help—who better come back from her break with a trophy."

He squinted at me like he was trying to figure out what kind of creature I was.

"You are weird," he said, deadpan.

I nodded proudly. "I know."

I grabbed my box and stood up dramatically like a hero in a sad movie. "Thanks for your service," I added sarcastically before walking out of the room with flair.

He could come out whenever he liked. I didn’t care. I had bigger things to do.

Like... getting to school before I get roasted alive.

I rushed toward the table and snatched the car key like it was my only lifeline.

But just as I was about to escape like a thief in the night, I heard his voice again behind me.

"And where do you think you’re going?"

I stopped, rolled my eyes slowly, and turned around like someone caught red-handed.

"Where does it seem like I’m going?" I said, holding up the key. "Obviously, school."

He narrowed his eyes. "And who’s going to bring the car back after you drop it at school?"