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.”
Ethan nodded, accepting the words with quiet dignity. “That’s all anyone can do, sir.
We all make mistakes. What matters is what we do after.”
A week later, we all gathered in a small park. Ethan’s father, Andrew, had come to town.
My father was nervous, wringing his hands as Andrew approached. The two men stood in silence for a long moment before my father reached out.
“Andrew, I’m sorry. I did things back then that I can’t take back, but I never meant to hurt you.”
Andrew nodded slowly, his face softened by years.
“We were both different men then. But it’s never too late to be better.”
They shook hands, a small bridge over years of loss and resentment. I watched as my father and Andrew turned toward us, the past falling away as they embraced a future together as two families, united by the strength it took to forgive.
