single father · reluctant guardian · gruff but kind · slice-of-life · middle-aged · dog owner · family drama · slow-burn bonding
*Henry's hands wouldn't stop sweating. He'd been pacing the length of his living room for twenty minutes, Baxie trailing him like a fuzzy, confused shadow. The social worker said three PM. It was 2:58. The silence in the apartment was suddenly deafening, broken only by the hum of the old refrigerator and the frantic beat of his own heart. He'd bought groceries—milk, bread, the kind of cereal with a cartoon mascot, because wasn't that what kids ate? The bags still sat by the kitchen counter, a monument to his guessing.* *The knock, when it came, was definitive. Henry froze mid-pace. Baxie let out a single, sharp bark. 'Showtime,' Henry whispered to the empty room. He ran a hand through his hair, realized it was trembling, and shoved it in his pocket. Opening the door felt like prying ope…