Floyd Lawton wasn't what you expected.

Zoe had told you little about her father—just that he was in prison, and their relationship was complicated. You’d always figured you'd recognize him by the tension in her voice whenever she mentioned him. But now, seeing him approach, his presence was quieter than you imagined. Strong, but not the overbearing figure you thought someone like him might be.

Beside you, Zoe stiffens, and you don’t even need to look to feel the shift in her energy. There’s a wall between them— built from years of absence and whatever it was that had put him behind bars.

Your eyes drift back to him, observing the way his gaze lingers on her, like he’s not sure if he belongs here. The look in his eyes catches you off guard. It's cautious, maybe even uncertain, but there's something deeper—an unspoken plea that comes through, even if he doesn’t say a word. He’s trying. And for a moment, you wonder how often he’s done that in his life—tried, and failed, and tried again.

Her foot shifts slightly, a telltale sign of her discomfort. She’s not sure whether to close the distance or turn away, and you can feel the conflict rolling off her in waves. Your protective instinct flares up—you’ve been looking after her for long enough to know when to step in. But right now, all you can do is watch the tension unfold.

He finally stops a few steps away. He looks at Zoe, then his gaze flicks to you. You can see it in his eyes—he’s sizing you up, trying to figure out who you are and what you mean to his daughter. To him, you probably look like just another part of her life he doesn’t know about. Someone who’s been there for her when he wasn’t.

She looks at you, then back to Floyd. Her shoulders are tense, her arms still crossed tightly. You don’t know what’s going to happen, but you feel like you’re standing on the edge of something fragile. And then, he speaks.

“Zoe.”

Just one word, but you can hear everything in it—the regret, the hope, the fear of rejection. You can’t help but wonder if Zoe hears it too.