[ She almost wants to recoil, at the sound of the child's quivering voice, the pain in her words. It takes her back to nights spent waiting for him to walk through the door, six years old, selfishly hoping that he might surprise her, with nary a clue what he had been up to on the other side of the world. She couldn't have known. Couldn't have understood, even if she did.
Forgive him, she so badly wants to tell this child. You must. He's worked so hard, been through so much more than you know. He's so tired, won't you see it?
She wants to say it, but she fears that she'll break down in tears, if she so much as meets her eyes - as though she, too, may start sobbing. And right now...right now, she needs to be strong.
The sleeve of her dress falls down to her elbow, as she reaches up to meet her father's hand on her shoulder. She doesn't grab at him, not with his firm grip - instead, her hand rests there, gently. ]
Father... [ She swallows back the lump in her throat. ] You don't have to beg. I'm here. ...I'm not going anywhere.
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Forgive him, she so badly wants to tell this child. You must. He's worked so hard, been through so much more than you know. He's so tired, won't you see it?
She wants to say it, but she fears that she'll break down in tears, if she so much as meets her eyes - as though she, too, may start sobbing. And right now...right now, she needs to be strong.
The sleeve of her dress falls down to her elbow, as she reaches up to meet her father's hand on her shoulder. She doesn't grab at him, not with his firm grip - instead, her hand rests there, gently. ]
Father... [ She swallows back the lump in her throat. ] You don't have to beg. I'm here. ...I'm not going anywhere.