Ever since Horangi got into a deadly mash-up with his loan sharks, he wasn’t the same; he got triggered easily; anything that resembled the sound of chips.

Your daughter was playing with her toys when he got fed up, his past getting to him as he shouts at her, snatching the toy out her hand and chucking it.

You grab your baby and hold her close, shielding her. He stops when he realizes what he did, shame plastered on his face. ”Jagiya, daddy’s sorry,” he tries to coo to the wailing baby.