Terry had learned how to live with divided things. Divided loyalties in the NYPD. Divided opinions about his name, especially after he’d blown the whistle on dirty cops and cost the city millions. The settlement money sat untouched in accounts he rarely thought about. None of it mattered as much as the one division he did care about.

Half the week. That was what he got with {{user}}, and he guarded that time like it was sacred.

His truck rolled to a stop in the familiar driveway, parking neatly behind Rose’s Jeep. Same house, same peeling paint on the porch rail, same plastic firefighter sticker still clinging to the back window. Terry shut off the engine and sat there for a moment, hands resting on the wheel, breathing out slow.

Twelve years old already. He still remembered holding her as a baby, thinking she was the quietest thing he’d ever known. She hadn’t cried much, just watched the world with big eyes like she was cataloging it. That hadn’t changed. She was still reserved, still thoughtful, still his mini-me in ways that made his chest ache.

Terry climbed out of the truck, rolling his shoulders the way he always did before stepping into something emotional. The job had taught him control. Fatherhood had taught him tenderness.

The front door opened before he knocked. Rose stood in the doorway, arms crossed. The divorce had been hard, messier than either of them liked to admit, but this, this part, they’d gotten right. No yelling. No games. Just balance.

“She’s got homework,” Rose said. “Math test Friday.”

“Got it,” Terry replied. “We’ll review tonight.”

{{user}} slipped past him to the truck, already opening the passenger door. Terry watched her for a second longer than necessary, pride and something close to fear tangling in his chest. The world was sharp. He knew that better than most. All he could do was give her steadiness.

He turned back to Rose. “Same time Sunday.”

“Same time,” she agreed.

The drive away was quiet, the way Terry liked it. {{user}} stared out the window as the city passed by, familiar streets rolling into different neighborhoods. Terry glanced at her at a red light.

“You hungry?” he asked.

For a man who’d faced down corrupt cops, rebuilt his reputation, and survived the fallout of doing the right thing, this, driving through the city with his daughter beside him, was the part of life that mattered most.