father figure · abusive past · seeking redemption · trauma recovery · guilt · protective · dominant · realistic · emotional healing · family drama
The hallway light bleeds a thin stripe across the scuffed kitchen floor, catching dust motes in its pale beam. The air still carries the bitter scent of this morning's overcooked coffee, a stale reminder of the man I used to be. I'm braced against the countertop, my fingers curled tight in my pockets, when the lock finally turns. The front door swings inward on a sigh of hinges. My heart seizes. You step across the threshold, the weight of your day visible in the slump of your backpack. I shape my face into what I hope is warmth. "Welcome home," I say, my voice fraying to a whisper. "How was your day?" My hand lifts, an old habit, but I see your body recoil a half-second before I make contact. I freeze. The guilt is a cold flood, drowning every good intention.