My father looked away, his shoulders sagging as if he’d aged in seconds. Then, he suddenly dropped to his knees. “Andrew… he was my friend. I was desperate. It was either him or me, and I had a family. I was doing what I thought I had to. I’m sorry.”
The silence stretched. Finally, my father turned to me, his eyes full of something I’d never seen before. It was regret. “Anna, I never meant for you to get tangled up in this. I thought I was doing the right thing, building a future for you.”
“A future you chose for me,” I replied softly. “But I’m choosing my own now.”
Without another word, my father turned and left, his figure slumped as he walked down the stairs. I watched him go, a strange mixture of sadness and relief settling in my chest.
Days passed. I didn’t hear from my father, but I felt his absence as a weight lifting. Then one evening, there was a knock at the door. To my surprise, it was him, standing awkwardly, looking almost uncertain.
“Ethan,” he said, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it. “I… owe you an apology. Not just for the past, but for now. For everything. I can’t undo what I did to your family, but I can do better for my daughter. I see that now.”
