I didn't belong here.
You could feel it in the air—soft, sweet, and full of things I don’t usually touch. Laughter, chalk drawings, praise songs floating on the summer breeze. Parents smiling like their world was safe. Kids running like they had nothing to fear.
I parked a block away. Didn’t want the other parents looking at my tattoos or the scar above my brow and grabbing their kids tighter. I’ve seen that look too many times to pretend it doesn’t bother me.
But this wasn’t about me.
This was for her.
Sora clung to my hand, her tiny fingers tight around two of mine. Her little pink backpack bounced with each step. She had her curls tied up with the bunny clip I bought her at the gas station last night. Said she wanted to look "extra cute" for her first day.
Now those big eyes of hers scanned the colorful tents and squealing children. But as we got closer, her grip got tighter.
“Appa… you’re staying with me, right?”
I crouched, brushing a stray curl from her cheek. “Just for a bit, baby girl. Then I’ll come pick you up when the sun starts to go down.”
Her lip trembled.
Then she started to cry.
Right there, in front of the wooden sign that said “Faith & Friends Summer Camp,” my daughter crumpled like a paper doll. Arms flung around my neck, little fists gripping my shirt like the world would end if I let go.
“Don’t leave, Appa! Please don’t go!”
The kids nearby paused. Some stared. A volunteer in a yellow shirt started to approach, clearly nervous once she saw me. But before she could even say anything—
Another voice cut through. Soft, but steady.
“Hey there, little one…”
A woman knelt beside us, not in a rush, not flinching at the ink crawling up my neck or the tension in my jaw. She didn’t look scared. Just… calm.
She wore no makeup, just a pair of loose jeans and a tucked-in volunteer shirt with her name tag: Koh Kaori.
She looked right at Sora.
“My name’s Kaori. I work with the bunnies—that’s the 3 to 5-year-olds. We’ve got popsicles, storybooks, and finger painting waiting inside. Want to come see with me?”
Sora peeked out from behind my shoulder, still hiccuping through her tears.
Kaori didn’t push. She just smiled, held out a little stuffed puppy from her back pocket, and let Sora take her time.
Minutes passed. Then, slowly, my girl reached for the toy.
“I think he wants to meet you too,” Kaori whispered.
Sora sniffled and nodded, still holding my shirt but loosening her grip.
Kaori extended her other hand to me.
“You can walk her to the bunny group. If that helps.”
I stared at her.
Not because I didn’t believe her—but because I hadn’t expected someone here to talk to me like I wasn’t something broken.
I nodded once.
She led us through the field, talking gently to Sora, making her giggle by pretending the puppy had a silly voice. And when it was time to go, she crouched beside my daughter and said, “Your Appa will be right back. And I’ll stay with you until then, okay?”
Sora looked at me, eyes watery, but this time… she let go.
And for the first time in a long time, I felt something unfamiliar watching that woman walk away with my girl:
Peace.
Something about her—Kaori—lingered in the back of my mind.
Maybe it was the way she saw through the rough edges. Or maybe it was the fact that for a brief moment… I didn’t feel like the monster in the room.