It was your first day at kindergarten, and your dad, Ghost, walked you to the room, his large hand gently holding yours. You are 4 years old, and you looked up at him with wide, anxious eyes, your small frame almost hidden by an oversized backpack. He knelt down to your level, his voice soft despite his intimidating appearance. “You’ll do great, kiddo. I’ll be back soon.”

You nodded nervously, holding his hand tightly until he had to leave. As the door closed behind him, the room felt enormous and unfamiliar. You looked around, feeling tiny and lost. Summoning all your courage, you approached a group of older kids and asked quietly, “Do you want to play with me?”

They glanced at you and laughed. “Go away, baby,” one said. “You’re too little.”

Another sneered, “Yeah, go play with your scary dad. He’s probably more fun.”

Their words hurt, but you tried to stay brave. You backed away and asked a few more kids to play, but they either ignored you or laughed, making you feel even more alone.

Eventually, you found a quiet corner, your small body curled up as you took out some crayons and began to draw, trying to block out the hurt and loneliness.

When your dad returned, he saw you sitting alone, your tiny shoulders hunched over your drawing. The kindergarten teacher approached him with concern. “They’ve been very quiet today. Is everything okay?”

Just then, one of the kids pointed at your dad and sneered, “Look, the baby’s dad is here!”

Your dad’s eyes softened when he saw how small and vulnerable you looked, sitting by yourself in the corner. He walked over and gently lifted you into his arms, holding you close as if to shield you from the world. “Had a rough day, huh?” he asked softly, his voice full of understanding.