A glimpse of regret.
When I finally stepped into their home again, my dad didn’t look the same. He seemed smaller somehow, weighed down by something he couldn’t put into words. He didn’t rush toward me or apologize right away. Instead, he lingered near the crib, watching my baby with a tenderness that didn’t match the anger I remembered. When his eyes finally met mine, I saw the regret there, even though the apology refused to leave his lips.
