To the end

17

Dad?

P.J. had the third letter from Vegas tucked into his pocket, ready to deliver it to Kim. Three weeks had passed, and this was the third letter he’d managed to get through. As he moved down the hallway, he heard voices echoing from the playroom and paused.

“Let’s call him! Let’s call Dad Ken!” Venice exclaimed,  excitement infectious.

“Yes! He’s like our dad now!” Leiah added with a cheerful laugh.

P.J. froze, feeling a strange twist of emotions. Dad Ken? He knew the kids called Kim “Papa,” but hearing them call Ken “Dad” struck him hard. It was… unsettling.

Shaking off his thoughts, he continued to Kim’s room and knocked on the door.

Kim opened it, his gaze immediately catching P.J.’s tense expression. “What?” Kim asked, eyeing him carefully.

P.J. hesitated, the words sticking in his throat. “Nothing… Just the letter, sir,” he said, handing over the envelope.

Kim took the letter but didn’t let P.J. go just yet, his eyes narrowing. “Are you sure?” he pressed, catching onto P.J.’s hesitation. “Something’s on your mind.”

P.J. looked down, then finally gave in, his voice barely above a whisper. “I overheard the kids… they were talking about Ken… calling him ‘Dad.’”

Kim’s voice was thick with disbelief as he whispered, “It can’t be true. They wouldn’t… they wouldn’t just replace him like that.”

PJ shifted uneasily, sensing the depth of Kim’s hurt. He could see Kim’s hands clench and unclench, the struggle to keep his emotions in check evident. PJ felt a pang of guilt, unsure if he should’ve brought it up at all.

“Master Kim,” PJ ventured cautiously, “they’re just kids. They don’t understand the way you do. It’s not about replacing him; it’s about finding someone who fills that space, even if it’s temporary.”

Kim’s gaze dropped, eyes fixed on the floor as he processed PJ’s words. There was a long silence, and PJ felt the air grow heavy with Kim’s quiet sorrow.

After a moment, Kim straightened, his voice firm though barely above a whisper. “Thank you, PJ. You can go.”

With a nod, PJ left the room, leaving Kim alone to wrestle with the painful reality he hadn’t been ready to.

Kim stormed down the hall, his emotions a whirlwind of hurt and anger. Reaching the kids, he raised his voice, startling them.

"Do you even realize what you're saying?" he demanded, his tone sharp. "Calling Ken 'dad' — do you understand what that means? Do you remember who your father is?"

The children looked at him, eyes wide, their usual warmth replaced with confusion and a hint of fear. Venice tried to speak, but Kim's intense gaze silenced her.

"Your father... was Vegas," he said, his voice breaking slightly, though he masked it with a steely tone. "You can't just replace him because he's not here."

The silence was heavy, and for a moment,  "Don't forget him. Don’t ever forget who he was to you."

Kim’s anger simmered as he looked down at Venice, who bravely held his gaze, his  little fists clenched.

“Papa… we don’t mean to make you upset,” he said quietly, glancing at her siblings for support. “But… with Ken, we feel happy. We feel like… we have everyone, like other kids.”

Kim’s expression softened a bit, though he still struggled to hold back his emotions. "Venice, you can't just… replace him because he's gone. Vegas was your father. He loved you."