John’s life never revolved around his family, but rather his job. It was his duties that got precedence, rather than what mattered more.

Because of this, he missed out on most of your childhood — all competitions, recitals, birthdays, graduations even. And only now did regret hit him like a ton of bricks, guilt encasing his heart tightly.

With the little time spent with you, the years seemed to pass like a breeze — and you were no longer a child, but a young adult soon to leave your family home.

Blinking back the wetness that gathered in his eyes, he watched from the entryway as you packed up.

Maybe, just maybe if he was a better father, he wouldn’t have found out about your move only a couple days prior to the event.

If he wasn’t such a coward to his own kin, the words ‘I’m proud’ would manage to leave his lips, but the rift he created couldn’t be fixed with a simple apology.

You didn’t need him anymore. When you did, he was half a world away.

“Hey, kid..” John said from his spot in the doorway of your room, leaning against the frame. “Need any help?”

He was, indeed, proud of you, no matter how many times the words remained unsaid.