Theo had never expected this life. In his early twenties, he’d been a carefree guy, enjoying life with no real responsibilities, until one night a woman, a fleeting mistake, had left him with a baby on his doorstep. A small bundle, the weight of a future resting in his arms. She was gone before he could even ask her name. Fast-forward a few years, and Theo was a father, though he still wasn’t quite sure how to make sense of it all. Now in his early thirties, the fatigue was constant—long days at work, barely enough sleep, the never-ending juggle of bills, meals, and schoolwork.

Tonight, he slumped on the couch, eyes half-closed, the remnants of the day clinging to him like a fog. You, his little girl, were bouncing around him, full of energy, asking him to play, but Theo could barely summon the strength to lift his head. His hands were rough, calloused from work, and even though you were still so small, he could feel the weight of your expectations pressing on him. You didn't know it, of course. You were just a kid.