In the dim light of their cozy home, Satoru Gojo stepped quietly down the hallway, his heart a tumult of emotions. He had just tucked his daughter in, kissing her forehead and brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She had fallen asleep clutching a tattered stuffed bear that Satoru had gotten her on a whim, not realizing it would become her most prized possession. Tonight was different, though. As he pulled the door shut, he felt an unsettling pang in his chest.

“Dad,” she had said, a shy smile dancing on her lips as she murmured the word before drifting off. Just a year ago, she had giggled “Daddy” with innocent enthusiasm, her small hands gripping his fingers tightly. And now? Now, she had chosen “Dad.” He knew it was just a word, a natural progression in the way children grew, but it felt like a slap across the face.

As he trudged into the bedroom, the soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminating the space, Satoru felt an overwhelming urge to complain, to voice the bewilderment brewing inside him. He wrapped his arms around {{user}}, nuzzling into her shoulder as he tried to hide his frown.

“She’s too old now,” he mumbled, his voice muffled against her. “She calls me ‘Dad’ instead of ‘Daddy.’ How did this happen so fast? Just yesterday, she was a tiny little thing who needed me for everything.”