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School blurred past her in long, quiet hours, and before she realized it, she was back at the bus stop, the day already slipping behind her. The ride home felt shorter than usual, as if time had decided not to linger with her.
When she reached the house, she slipped off her shoes at the door and followed the low murmur of the television into the living room. Her father was there. Sitting exactly where he always sat. The light from the screen washed over his face, softening the lines that work and worry had drawn into him.
Her precious dad.
He was the only person she could offer her heart to without fear of it being mishandled.
After her mother left, something in him had changed. He had grown quieter, yes, but also gentler.
As if pain had taught him how to hold another person more carefully.
Even on days when his own sadness pressed heavily on his shoulders, he carried himself with a strength that did not ask to be admired.
He chose to stand.
And in doing so, he taught her what standing looked like.
When he noticed her, he muted the television and held out his hand. “Why are you standing there like a statue?” he said, smiling. “Come sit with me.”
She sat beside him, close enough to feel the warmth of his arm through the fabric of his sleeve. His smile had always done something strange to her heart, as if it could momentarily rewrite reality into something kinder.
“How are you doing, Anna? How was school today?”
The truth rose to her lips and stopped there. Should she tell him how life felt lately, that she felt invisible and too visible at the same time?
“Fine,” she said instead.
“It was… nice.”
He studied her face for a second, the way parents do when they know the answer but don’t want to corner the truth.
“Did you make any friends?”
“It was only my first day, soo..” she replied softly.
“I still have time.”
He nodded, but worry lingered behind his eyes like a shadow that refused to move.
She pretended not to notice. “Don’t you have work?” she asked, needing the conversation to end before it reached something fragile.
He sighed, already rising from the couch. “Yes, my dear. I should get ready.”
She watched him disappear down the hallway, the house growing quieter with each step he took away from her.
