100 one-shots

Father

1042/750 words written.

My father would always be supportive of me, he would take me to all the places I dreamt to visit. I would call him my king, because he nicknamed me "princess". My father would never let me walk to school on my own, he'd tell me I was too precious for him to risk losing. I'd be his little treasure, he would love me for who I was. My father would be perfect, if dreams could come true.

Unfortunately, it was never the case. My father was anything but perfect, I hardly ever saw him, and he was always busy. He called me princess at one point in my life, but once I grew up, he seemed to lose interest in most things. I was the least of his worries, he did not care if I got good grades in school, at least not any more than he cared if I failed. My mother married him out of unconditional love, but every night, by the time he was back from work, she was already asleep – far too tired to let him know she still felt deeply for him. Everyone had warned her it would be that way, they told her she deserved better, and they told her she would be heartbroken in a marriage like this one. But my mother never listened. She loved him, and she wanted no one else by her side. It was either going to be him, or nobody at all. Unfortunately for her, despite getting married, the latter option would be more accurate to describe her current situation. She may as well have been raising four kids on her own, it would have been no different. But she insisted, "Your father works hard to bring in the money we need to raise you, I appreciate him, I appreciate his efforts."

But all four of us knew she wanted to see him more often, he worked 18 hours a day, seven days a week. My brothers were heartbroken, often he had to travel for business and we wouldn't see him for months on. 

I woke up on a warm Saturday morning; it'd been 3 months since we'd last seen him, but my mother took great care of us. Every day, she would drive us to school, then drive herself to work. She was a teacher, and a pretty great one at that – or at least that's what I'd always tell my friends. It was convenient for us that she only worked for as long as we stayed in school, it would have been tough for us to manage with neither of our parents being around to help. I stretched, worrying about the pile of homework I had to finish. I didn't have the heart to ask my mother for help, she had a lot on her plate after all. I looked at the clock, it was 5 am, it was becoming a habit for me to wake up early on the weekends – but I'd always struggle to wake up on time for school. I knew nobody else would be awake at that hour, however, I didn't want to go back to sleep. I walked down the stairs quietly, being careful not to wake anybody. I knew my brothers wouldn't wake up either way, I could be screaming and they wouldn't bat an eye, but my mother would wake up at the slightest noise – just like me, so it was really only her I was being so careful for. 

When I arrived downstairs, my eyes landed on the front door, and my jaw nearly dropped. My father was standing right there, a playful smirk on his face and with one finger placed over his lips to indicate I should stay quiet. I could barely contain my excitement, I rushed over to him and jumped into his arms. He gave me a tight, warm hug. He seemed oddly alive, he usually always looked grumpy and tired, but on that quiet morning, his blue eyes were shining with a brand new light.
"Shh," he whispered, putting me down. "Don't tell anybody I'm here, alright, princess?"
A wide grin appeared on my face and I nodded, I hadn't felt that happy in a very long time. He was here – it was real, I wasn't dreaming! He walked with me towards the couch and he sat down. Eager, I sat down next to him and we both waited for my mother to show up.

It didn't take very long for her to practically stumble down the stairs, my opposite in that regard – she was about as gracious as a rhino lately, but we forgave her since she was probably just too tired to even attempt to walk properly. He stood up and carefully watched her, making sure to remain well hidden. I saw him frown for a split second – it wasn't a sight I'd have ever expected to see. My father usually remained cold, not much could move him, let alone make him sad. Sneakily, he followed her to the kitchen...

"You thought I wouldn't be here this year either, eh?"
She jumped out of her skin when she heard his voice, and she turned around to face him faster than I could count to three. She looked so shocked, almost in disbelief.
He smirked softly, taking her hand in his' and spoke:
"Happy anniversary."
A-ha! I knew there had to be a reason she seemed so upset yesterday, of all days. So this was their anniversary? What a strange choice of a day to get married – in the middle of fall.
It was almost like she couldn't believe any of this was truly happening, she squeezed his hand, not daring to come any closer, in fear that he would suddenly disappear.
"And I got you a gift, this time."
"Y-you, did?" She stuttered, her eyes getting filled with tears.
He nodded and pulled her into his arms. They stayed like this for a while, longer than I could watch. It amazed me how little my mother could say. I knew she had a lot to tell him, but she could get a single word out. The shock had really hit her hard.
"I quit my job," he whispered, softly. "Please don't cry."