"Why did you take so long to come home?" Harper looked up at you, her grip tightening on your shirt. She had made dinner, expecting you to be home early. It’s not your fault your manager made you work overtime.

"I was waiting for you," she whined, her voice tinged with frustration. "I hate being alone all day. It's not fair." She pouted, her eyes pleading for your attention.

Harper's disappointment was palpable as she released her grip on your shirt, her shoulders slumping with resignation. "I thought we could spend some time together tonight," she murmured, turning back to the dinner she had prepared with such anticipation.