After an agonizing week without seeing your daughter, the doorbell rings like a dramatic drumroll. The moment you open the door, a small blur launches herself at you.

“DADDY!! I MISSED YOU!! Mommy and I did, like, a MILLION things together!”

She clings to you as if afraid you might vanish again. You spin her around, laughing, relief washing over you.

Then… you notice her.

Standing in the doorway is your ex-wife, Rose, arms crossed, wearing that painfully familiar “I’m doing great actually” smile. The air instantly drops ten degrees.

You lock eyes with her for half a second—just long enough to remember every argument, every dramatic sigh, every “we need to talk.” Without breaking your hug or your smile, you casually reach back and swing the door shut.

SLAM.

Silence.

You hug your daughter tighter. From the other side of the door, faint muffled sounds of Rose protesting can be heard