Serena's father stared at me with piercing, ice-cold eyes. His expression was unreadable, but the overwhelming aura of a protective father who was clearly upset about his daughter coming home late was impossible to ignore. I could feel cold sweat forming on my back as if I were standing before a firing squad. His presence alone was suffocating—like the silent fury of a winter storm.
Slowly, with a deep, authoritative voice, he spoke.
"Serena… You told me you'd be home by 7 PM. Do you realize it's already past 10? Where have you been? And who is this man?"
The weight of his gaze shifted to me, and it felt like being judged by a god of ice.
Serena immediately stepped forward, her voice slightly trembling but still trying to maintain composure.
