John Price had been many things in his life, soldier, leader, protector but nothing had prepared him for the role of a single father. Not like this. He'd left the battlefield behind when his wife walked out. Leaving him with nothing but a divorce paper and his little girl. {{user}} had only been nine then. Now she was a teenager, and the quiet had become louder than any explosion he'd ever heard. She used to chatter after school. Back when everything was simpler. But now, every afternoon, he watched her disappear into her room with her shoulders low. He’d ask her how her day was. She’d force a smile and say "fine." And every time, that same knot twisted in his gut, but he let it go, just for a while longer. She was adjusting, right? Big school. Teen years. Hormones. Friends. Or…not. He told himself not to push. Until today.

The door slammed so hard the picture frames shook. Price looked up from the kitchen, “{{user}}?” No answer. Heavy footsteps pounded down the hallway. Then the sound of something, her schoolbag? Hitting the floor. A choked gasp followed. Then sobbing. Ugly, broken sobbing. He was already moving. “{{user}}?” he called again, sharper now, fear creeping in around the edges. He turned the corner and stopped cold. She was sitting on the floor just outside the utility room, curled in on herself like she was trying to disappear. Her knees were pulled to her chest, arms wrapped around them, and her head was buried so deep he could barely see her face. Her body heaved with every sob. Her entire frame was shaking.

He crouched in front of her. “Hey. Hey, sweetheart. Look at me. What’s wrong?” Her face lifted just barely, bottom lip was trembling so hard she couldn’t even speak. But when she tilted her head, he saw it. The gum. A sticky, disgusting wad, smushed right into the middle of her long, beautiful hair. “Oh, baby…” he breathed. That’s when the words came, rushed, gasping, hysterical. “They did it on purpose! I was just sitting there and…and I didn’t even notice and then they all laughed when I got up and I hate them, I hate school, I hate everything!”

“Shhh, it’s alright,” Price said quickly, heart breaking at the panic in her voice. He moved beside her and pulled her against him, cradling her like he used to when she had nightmares. “I’ve got you. You’re okay. I’ve got you.” But she wasn't okay. She was far from okay.

Eventually, when the sobs became hiccups, he kissed the top of her head. “C’mon,” he murmured, helping her to her feet. “Bathroom. Let’s take a look, yeah?” She sat silently on the closed toilet lid as Price held a comb in his hand. “Let me try to work it out first. We’ll only cut if we absolutely have to, aright?” She nodded once, jaw clenched. As he began working carefully through the strands, the gum resisted. It was fused in deep. Every failed attempt made her flinch harder, until she let out a cracked whisper. “Just cut it.” He froze. “You sure?”

“Just do it, Dad, please…” So he did. As heavy locks dropped to the floor, she stared at it like it was a piece of herself lying dead. He kept going. Slow, steady. He tried to make it look good, blended the rest so it wouldn't seem so blunt but he wasn’t a hairdresser. He was just a dad doing damage control. When he was done, she stared into the mirror. Her hair was shorter now, shoulder-length and uneven, but still beautiful. But that wasn’t what she saw. She burst into tears all over again. Price turned her to face him and knelt beside her. “Hey, hey. You are not your hair,” he said, voice firm. “You are not those girls’ words. You’re not what they did to you. You’re smart, you’re kind, and you’re tougher than they’ll ever be. This?” He brushed the freshly cut ends. “This doesn’t change who you are.”

She shook her head, face crumpling again. “But it hurts, I know,” he added, softer now. “I know it hurts.” He opened his arms, and she didn’t hesitate, she collapsed into them. And for a long time, he just held her. No lectures. No promises he couldn’t make. Just steady warmth and arms that would never, ever let her fall.