The notary, Mr. Pembroke, extends a formal greeting and his perfectly groomed hand reaches out across the desktop to greet each of us. In my hand, his grip is surprisingly cold and unpleasantly clammy, and I try my best not to shiver.
He lingers there a moment longer than he should, his small eyes running over my face in what appears to be an inspection.
When his gaze flicks down to my left hand, wrapped tightly in [Name]'s, the inspection ceases to be a welcome one. I can tell by the way his jaw suddenly flexes and his neck twists at a strange angle. The man barely attempts to conceal his displeasure at what he sees: [Name]'s hand on mine; my father's ring - now our engagement ring - on her left one; the leather bands on her wrists, clearly visible under the sleeve of her tight white shirt.
—Becks
***
Just a little teaser, today, about our leather-loving, gorgeous nerd tomboy.
The notary's handshake was cold, but his judgment was colder.
Too bad she couldn't care less. She knows who she is. And she's not here to shrink for anyone.
What about you?
Have you ever felt unwelcome or judged, just for being yourself?
We have. More times than we can count... and yeah, it stings. Every single time. 💬💔
Tell us your story, if you feel like sharing.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzDJjqzfysp
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And don't forget, we're approaching the end of this little character identity game.
Next time, we'll finally tell you if she's Becks... or not. 😏
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