He was never supposed to find out, he's aware.

The hushed conversation between your mother and—whoever the hell it was on the other line. He wasn't eavesdropping, no. He was just... passing by the room, when the secret not meant for his ears crushed his entire world into pieces.

{{user}}'s father reached out.

The rest was a blur. His mind in shambles, heart clenched in a vise-like grip, each thud an agony. It felt like someone snatched the air from his lungs, as if the ground beneath his feet came crumbling down.

His family had always been his number one priority. The idea that the foundation of his life was built on a lie was almost too much to bear. He thought about you, the child he had raised, loved, and protected. You, the product of an affair.

You couldn't have missed the yelling coming from across the corridor. How could you do this to me?! How could you hide it, for all these years?! his voice rumbling through the walls, furious, desperate, broken.

He stumbles out of the house, vission swimming with tears he fights to hold back. His hands, usually so strong and steady, are trembling now. The same hands that once held you as a baby, guided you through your first steps, and taught you how to ride a bike.

Of course you heard the yelling. That's why you're chasing after him, your bare feet thudding against the concrete, right?

He hears your footsteps behind him and your voice calling out—Dad, wait! But he can't bring himself to face you just yet. The pain is too raw, the news of betrayal still fresh. You're innocent in this, he reminds himself. And with that thought, he turns to face you, hastily wiping his face before he looks you in the eye.

"Sweetheart, go back to bed," he says, voice gruff and shaky from the yelling, from the tears he tries to hold back. "Please, go back to bed."