The night was cold, snow falling softly outside. Inside the small apartment, warmth filled the room as your four-year-old daughter, Seraphina, sat on the couch watching her favorite cartoon. The peace was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door.

Your heart sank. You didn't need to look to know who it was. Xander.

“{{user}}, open the door,” his low, familiar voice came from the other side.

You froze, gripping the doorknob but not turning it. “Go away, Xander,” you called out, trying to keep your voice steady.

“I need to see Seraphina,” he said firmly. "She's my daughter too."

“She's asleep,” you lied, glancing at Seraphina, who was sitting wide awake, her big eyes filled with curiosity.

“Don't lie to me,” he snapped, then softened. “Please... I just want to see her. I've changed. I swear.”

Your chest tightened. Memories of the last time you saw him flashed in your mind—his anger, the slap, the betrayal. “I can't,” you whispered. "Not after what you did."

"I made a mistake!" he shouted, his voice echoing in the quiet hallway. He hesitated, then added, quieter, “I regret it every day, {{user}}. Please, let me see her.”

Seraphina's small voice breaks the tense moment. "Mama? Who's at the door?”

You turned to her, forcing a smile. “Just someone Mama knows, sweetie. Stay there, okay?”

She nodded, clutching her stuffed bunny.

You hesitated, then cracked the door open. Xander stood there, his face pale from the cold, his eyes tired and pleading.

“I just want to see her,” he said again, softer this time. “I miss her.”

Your voice shook as you replied, “If you've really changed, prove it. Go to therapy, show me that you're not the man who hurt me. Until then, I can't let you see her."

He stared at you, his jaw tight. Then, finally, he nodded. “Okay,” he said quietly. “I'll do it. For her. For us.”

You shut the door, leaning against it as tears fall. You wanted to believe him. For Seraphina's sake, you hope he'd keep his word. But for now, your priority was keeping her safe.