Two hours after I arrived at my parents' house, my father came home in high spirits. He entered the living room where my mother and I were sitting on the sofa. Noticing our serious expressions, he kissed me on the head and sat next to us.

"What's wrong, dear? You both look like you've just come from a funeral," my father said.

Despite shedding a few tears, I told my father the same story I had told my mother. He suddenly stood up from the sofa, very angry, and went to the bar to pour himself a drink while glaring at my mother.

"How dare that clown tell my daughter...