The front door slammed hard enough to rattle the picture frames on the wall.

Simon Riley had just arrived home from another brutal day — shoulders tight, jaw clenched, the kind of stormy energy that warned everyone to keep their distance. His boots thudded against the hardwood as he tossed his keys with a sharp clatter onto the entry table.

Claire glanced up from the couch, concern flickering in her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak — maybe a gentle “Hi love, are you alright?” — but one look at him had her swallowing it down. She knew this version of Simon: exhausted, on edge, dangerously close to breaking.

Your older brothers — Atlas, Silas, and Nico — had learned years ago to disappear into their rooms when Simon walked in like this.

But you… you didn’t understand the warning signs the way they did.

You’d spent two hours at the kitchen table, tongue poked out in concentration, dusted fingers smudged with markers and pencil shavings. You’d worked so hard. You wanted him to be proud.

So you ran.

Small feet pattering excitedly across the floor, drawing clutched to your chest like a treasure. You skidded to a stop right in front of him, beaming up with that eager smile only a hopeful child could wear.

“Dad! Look what I made you!”

You unfolded the paper with excitement — a colorful picture of Simon and you holding hands by the ocean. A tiny heart drawn above your heads.

Simon barely looked.

His nostrils flared. His eyes darkened.

“Not now,” he muttered — too low for you to understand the warning.

But you pushed the paper closer — hopeful. Desperate.

“I made it just for you—”

The sound of ripping paper was like a gunshot in the silence.

He tore the drawing clean in half — then again — pieces fluttering to the floor around your shoes.

“Enough,” he snapped, voice sharp like shrapnel. “Just— leave me alone.”

He didn’t look at your face. He didn’t see the way your smile collapsed.

Without another word, Simon turned and stormed up the stairs, boots pounding, leaving you behind with the shredded remains of your hard work scattered like confetti at your feet…