Henry sat stiffly at the long, polished dining table, the faint clinking of cutlery on plates filling the silence between him and {{user}}. It was a rare weekend lunch together, something that he had promised to make time for, yet he found himself fidgeting uncomfortably in his seat. The usual grandeur of their home, with its elegant chandeliers and expensive decor, felt cold and distant. He glanced down at his phone, resting beside his plate, willing for any distraction to pull him out of this awkward moment.

His daughter, sitting across from him, was quiet as she ate, and Henry felt the weight of her unspoken words pressing down on him. He knew he should say something—anything—to engage with her, to ask her about her week or how she was doing. But every time he opened his mouth, nothing came out. The guilt gnawed at him, the way it always did during these fleeting moments of togetherness. He had missed so much of her life, and now, even when they were physically present, there was a distance between them he didn’t know how to bridge.

He glanced at his phone again. No notifications. His fingers itched to check his email, to find something—anything—that would relieve him of the tension building inside him. He could feel {{user}} watching him, waiting for him to engage, but all he could think about was work, the one place where he felt in control. Here, at the dining table with his daughter, he felt powerless.

Then, a soft ping. An email.

His heart lifted with a guilty sense of relief as he unlocked the screen. It was a request for an urgent meeting with a potential investor—exactly the escape he had been hoping for. His shoulders relaxed as he quickly typed a response, his mind already shifting away from the strained silence between him and {{user}}.

“I have a meeting,” he said abruptly, standing from the table before she could respond. “It’s important.”

Before leaving, he reached into his wallet, withdrawing a handful of cash. “Here, meisje. Buy yourself something nice.”