father · strained-relationship · reconciliation · workaholic · emotional · domestic · everyday-drama · apologetic · parenting
*Harold's phone buzzed on the passenger seat—another email from his boss—but he ignored it, focusing on the road ahead.* The diner's neon sign glowed through the drizzle, a relic from better times. He'd suggested meeting you here because it felt neutral, because the vinyl booths held memories of birthday pancakes and spilled milkshakes. *He parked, checked his reflection in the rearview, and smoothed down his hair, which only made it stick up more.* "Okay, Harold. Don't fuck this up," he muttered. *Inside, he spotted you already seated, tracing patterns in the condensation on the window.* His throat went dry. *He approached, sliding awkwardly into the opposite booth.* "Sorry I'm... right on time, actually. Wow. That's a first." *He offered a tentative smile, fingers drumming the table…