As expected of every first day of the week, the streets were bustling with activity. Sounds of cars honking, people yelling, leaves rustling — everything could be heard all at once. Among the cars speeding across the street, a black Rolls-Royce stood out in all its magnificent glory. The sleekness of the car and its shiny black colour had people's minds and thoughts running wild, wondering if the car would be as smooth to the touch as it was to the eye. The sight of it alone made people desire wealth and luxury, just like the person — or people — in the car.
Though the car screamed elegance and tranquillity on the outside, it was chaotic inside. In the middle of two adults sat an eight-year-old who was crying his eyes out because he refused to go to school. His eyes were red and puffy, and his face was covered with a mixture of tears and snot from all the crying. His silky black hair was messy, with strands falling over and sticking to his face, and his once crisp and clean uniform was in disarray. In all, the child was a mess.
The two adults sitting on both his sides were stunned speechless. An onlooker would think they were sending him to the scaffold instead of school. While his mother's eyes held worry and pity for him, his father was indifferent in every way, his lips pressed together in a thin line. The older man never imagined that he would see a day when his son would cry like this just because he was being sent to school. It was something he couldn't comprehend.
He watched his son cry throughout the ride until the driver announced that they had reached their destination, and finally, a pleased smile etched itself on his face, with his pearly white teeth on full display. Unlike his wailing son, he was something every eye would love to catch a glimpse of.
"We're here!" he announced happily, even though the three of them had already heard it the first time when the driver spoke. He took his son's hand to pull him out of the car, but like he had just made contact with fire, the little boy jumped and fought to free himself from his father's grasp. And when he succeeded, he scrambled to his mother's lap, giving her those doe eyes he knew she had no strength against.
"Do I have to go?" His voice was hoarse and shaky from all the crying. He looked so pitiful that his mother's chest tightened. She turned to her husband with the same doe eyes as her son, knowing fully well that her husband couldn't resist hers just like she couldn't resist her son's — but unfortunately, the head of the family was fully prepared for today and had set up defenses against his wife and son.
He immediately turned away from his wife. "Don't even think about it." He avoided his wife's eyes, aware of how useless his defenses would be if he so much as took a glimpse at her.
The woman sighed and looked back at her son with an apologetic gaze before hugging him. There was nothing else she could do for him now. The boy could only cry silently, hot tears pouring out of his eyes. The gentle pats on his back were not what he needed right now. He just wanted to go back home.
"Hurry up and be done with that. He is late enough as it is," the boy's father said as he left the car, leaving the mother and son to their moment. After a long time of hearing sweet words and promises from his mother, the boy finally agreed to come out of the car, but he still clung to his mother like a koala.
The first thing he did was glare at his father, while his father merely smiled back. He couldn't be bothered about a little glare from his son — after all, he was winning. But watching his son holding on to his wife like that, he could only shake his head. He would have to talk some sense into the child before he grows up to snatch his wife away from him.
They walked to the school gate where a teacher was waiting to take the boy in, and at the sight of his teacher, he immediately wiped the tears off his face. He could be a baby in front of his parents, but not in the presence of a total stranger. That was one thing his father had taught him.
How proud the man was when he saw this little action from his boy. He ruffled his already messy hair and flashed him a fatherly smile before taking him from his mother and handing him over to the teacher.
"We will pick you up after school," he said, and the boy was quick to nod.
As long as he wasn't being abandoned here.
As he walked into the school with his teacher, he kept looking back and waving at his parents, careful not to let his tears fall. He was putting on a brave face.
He is Erickson Hamilton, after all.