Keifer parked the car right outside my gate but didn't switch off the engine.
Of course he didn't.
I kept my seatbelt on deliberately, staring straight ahead like I had all the time in the world.
"Aren't you going to get down?" he asked casually.
"In five seconds."
He waited.
I didn't move.
After a few seconds, he sighed dramatically. "You know, for someone who pretends she doesn't care, you're extremely bad at goodbyes."
"I'm excellent at goodbyes," I said. "I'm just bad at ending them."
He smiled, that soft, dangerous smile that always made my chest feel tight. He leaned closer, resting his elbow near my shoulder.
"You'll miss me."
"I'll miss the car," I replied. "And the fact that you pay for fuel."
"Ouch."
He didn't move away. Instead, he brushed his thumb lightly against my wrist, just once.
Like a habit. Like muscle memory.
"I'll come back soon," he said quietly.
I nodded, pretending it didn't matter.
"Go," I said. "Before I change my mind and lock you in."
He laughed, finally stepping out, but not before leaning back in one last time. "Don't forget to eat."
"Don't forget to breathe," I shot back.
When Keifer finally drove away, the sound of his car faded far too quickly, leaving behind a silence that felt unfamiliar and heavy. Not peaceful. Empty.
I stood at the door for a moment longer than necessary, keys still in my hand, staring at nothing. The house felt too big today. Too quiet.
I kicked off my shoes and walked in, calling out softly, half out of habit, half out of hope.
"Anyone...?"
No answer.
I took two more steps-and froze.
Someone was sitting on the sofa.
My heart skipped so violently it actually hurt.
For a second, my brain refused to accept what my eyes were seeing. It felt unreal, like my mind was playing a cruel trick on me.
Then he looked up.
"Jay."
That one word broke something inside me.
"Dad...?"
I didn't walk. I ran.
I crashed into him, arms wrapping around his chest like if I let go, he might disappear. My face pressed into his shirt, and before I could stop myself, I started crying. Not the quiet kind. The ugly, breathless kind.
"You're here," I sobbed. "You're really here."
He held me carefully, almost like he was afraid I might shatter. His hand rested on my head, warm, familiar, grounding.
"I came as soon as I found out you were alone," he said softly.
I pulled back slightly, eyes burning as I looked at him properly-his face, his tired smile, the lines that hadn't been there before.
"You didn't tell Mom," I whispered.
He shook his head. "I didn't ask for permission."
That made my chest ache even more.
"This is only the second time I'm seeing you," I said, my voice trembling. "I thought... I thought I'd have to wait again."
He smiled sadly. "I didn't want you waiting."
I hugged him again, tighter this time. "I missed you," I cried. "So much."
"I know," he said quietly. "I missed you too."
For a few moments, nothing existed except us. No rules. No separation. No permissions. Just a father holding his daughter like time hadn't stolen so much already.
"Go freshen up," he said gently after a while, wiping my tears with his thumb. "Today, I'm cooking for you."
I laughed through my tears. "Are you sure that's safe?"
He chuckled. "You survived my cooking once. You'll survive again."
I went to my room, heart still racing, splashed water on my face, trying to calm myself. I stared at my reflection, whispering, He's here. He's really here.
When I came back, he was already in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, moving around like he belonged there-even though I knew how rare this moment was.
"Need help?" I asked, leaning against the counter.
"You'll eat everything," he replied.
"I'm quality control."
We cooked together. Or rather, he cooked, and I hovered, stealing bits of food, getting scolded, laughing too loudly. We talked about small things-school, random memories, silly jokes-like we were trying to squeeze years of missed conversations into one afternoon.
When we finally sat down to eat, I felt full even before taking a bite.
"This tastes amazing," I said honestly.
"Obviously," he said, grinning.
Then he coughed.
Lightly.
"You okay?" I asked, instantly alert.
He waved his hand. "Just swallowed wrong."
Then he coughed again.
Harder.
"Dad," I said, standing up. "Drink water."
He reached for the glass-but started coughing again, harsher this time.
And then I saw it.
Blood.
Bright red against white.
My vision blurred instantly.
My chest tightened, my breathing turning sharp and uneven.
"No," I whispered. "No, no, no-"
Blood had always terrified me. It made my mind shut down, my body panic before logic could step in.
"I'll get help," I said, backing away in terror. "I'll get someone."
I ran through the house, opening doors, calling out, voice breaking.
"Is anyone here?"
No answer.
I rushed back, grabbed my phone-and it slipped.
Hit the floor.
The screen went black.
"No... please..."
My hands shook so badly I could barely pick it up.
I looked outside.
His car.
Empty.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, tears streaming down my face. "I'm sorry I don't know how to do this."
I helped him up, my arms trembling under his weight.
"We're going to the hospital," I said desperately. "We're going right now."
I sat in the driver's seat, heart pounding.
"I don't know how to drive," I cried. "But I won't let anything happen to you."
The engine started.
The road became chaos.
Horns blared. Brakes screeched. Metal scraped.
I didn't care.
By the time I reached the hospital, the car had dents I didn't even remember making. I slammed into the gate, jumped out, screaming for help-
"Jay!"
I turned-and saw Elara running toward me.
She took one look at my face, then my father, and her expression hardened instantly.
"Jay," she said firmly, gripping my shoulders. "Take him inside. Now."
"But the car-"
"I'll handle it," she said without hesitation. "Go."
I didn't argue.
I didn't think.
I just moved.
As I helped my father inside, crying openly now, the last thing I saw was Elara turning toward the damaged car-calm, controlled, like chaos itself bent around her.
And for the first time since I saw the blood, I felt something ease inside my chest.
Because even in the worst moment of my life-
I wasn't alone anymore.