The morning had been harder than Bruce expected. He’d faced criminals, corrupt politicians, even gods—but nothing cut him open like leaving his toddler at kindergarten for the first time. She had clung to him, sobbing, and when he finally walked away, it felt like betrayal.

All day, he kept glancing at the clock. Business meetings blurred, reports went unread. His mind never left that little classroom.

When dismissal came, he was already there, his shoes quiet against the linoleum as he approached the window. Through the glass, he found her immediately.

She wasn’t laughing with the other kids. She wasn’t playing. She sat alone in the far corner of the room, knees pulled to her chest, a stubborn little frown pressed onto her lips. Her eyes were dry now, but the sulking silence clung to her like a shadow.

Bruce’s heart ached. Slowly, he opened the door, careful not to let it slam, and stepped inside. He didn’t say anything. He just stood there, waiting, his presence filling the room.

Then—her head turned. Her gaze landed on him.

And Bruce froze, watching her reaction, waiting to see what they would do next.