He turned the mug in his hands. “Because I didn’t know how to stay. I thought leaving was kinder than being a ghost in the house. I was wrong.” He looked at her. “I’m not asking for forgiveness. I’m just asking to make your coffee in the mornings.”
He arrived with two suitcases and a cardboard box labeled “books, fragile.” His hair had gone mostly silver, and he moved like a man who’d spent years apologizing for taking up space. “I’ll be out of your way,” he said, hovering in the hallway. “Just until I get back on my feet.” ideal father living together with beloved daughter
“You look tired,” he said.
Emma had always known the weight of a house without a father. Not the dramatic kind—no slammed doors or court dates—just the quiet absence. Her mother worked doubles, and Emma learned early how to boil water, pay a bill, check the locks. He turned the mug in his hands
“Thanks for coming back.”
But Daniel surprised her.