Grace stood there.
Behind her was a man in an expensive coat, his expression heavy with regret.
“Dad,” Grace said through tears, “I’m home.”
She turned toward him. “This is the father who raised me.”
He cleared his throat. “I left once,” he said quietly. “I won’t make that mistake again. But she is who she is because of you.”
That night, Grace and I sat at the kitchen table long after dinner was finished.