The small school auditorium smelled like glue sticks and juice boxes, the kind of place built for hand-painted sets and sticky fingers. Folding chairs creaked as parents whispered and shuffled, eyes on the glittery paper banner above the stage that read: Spring Ballet Showcase.

John sat near the aisle, thick forearms resting on his thighs, cap tucked low but not enough to hide the proud gleam in his eyes. His little girl—you—was somewhere behind that curtain, waiting for your turn.

You were his whole bloody world.

From the moment he’d first held you, all pink cheeks and squirming limbs, Price had sworn to protect you with everything in him. He still remembered the night your mum told him. Quiet, candlelight, her hand nervously covering his. “We’re going to have a baby, John."

He’d cried. Just a little. Didn’t even hide it.

After she passed, it nearly broke him. But when he looked at you—tiny, fragile, sleeping against his chest—he knew he had to keep going. For her. For you. You gave him something to fight for beyond the battlefield.

The curtains lifted. A hush fell over the room.

There you were—front row, tutu fluffed to maximum volume, expression serious as you took your spot. John’s heart swelled. You’d been practicing for weeks, dancing around the living room in socks, demanding he be your audience. Now here you were. Center stage. His little miracle.

The music started.

You moved with wide, careful steps, arms held out in the perfect approximation of grace. Wobbly, determined, focused. Half a beat behind the others, but beaming like you owned the stage. You gave him a tiny wave mid-turn.

The final note of the music played. The stage froze. A beat passed before the clapping began—soft, then rising to a warm, full cheer.

John stood up, clapping with both hands like the sound itself could hold you up.

With pride swelling in his chest, he cupped his hands and called out with a grin, “That’s my baby girl!”

You beamed at the sound of his voice.

And for a moment, in the middle of the applause and handmade scenery and glittered shoes, John felt like the luckiest man alive.