“How are you classifying your father? What exactly am I doing? Your father only assists me. Why are you looking down on what he is performing to help?” I let my mouth hang open as if I couldn't believe what he was asserting. He may be correct, but I will not allow him to continue believing what he is speculating.

“I wasn't born yesterday that I don't know what you've been doing,” he declared, taking both of my hands and leaning me against the wall. My hands have now risen over my head. I turn my head to the left so that our faces don't come into contact. He'll get...