She blinked. “That’s it?”
“You said no lectures.”
“Occupational hazard,” I said, and she laughed before her face fell again.
“Everyone expects me to be perfect. Top grades. Good daughter. Half the time I don’t even know who I am.” Her voice softened. “My dad barely calls. And when he does, it’s just about school. Like I’m a project, not a person.”
“You’re not a project,” I said. “You’re a person. I’m sorry if I haven’t shown that.”
“You’re not the problem,” she said.
“Maybe not. But I haven’t always known how to show I care about more than a role.”
She met my eyes. “You’re not my dad,” she said again.
I braced myself.
“But you’ve been more of one than he ever was.”
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