Page 79 of A Simple Reminder
“You’re here.” His eyes light up, bright and clear, and in that instant, I know—he remembers me. He knows who I am.
Something inside me cracks wide open, like a dam breaking free, and all the emotions I’ve kept bottled up—fear, relief, love—come flooding out. Tears blur my vision as I drop to my knees beside him, gripping his hand tightly like I’m afraid to let go. “Dad,” I whisper, my voice trembling.
He squeezes my hand, his eyes softening as if to anchor me in this clarity. “My Petal,” he says again, his voice thick with emotion, and I can’t hold back the sob that escapes.
“Oh, love. Why are you crying?” His solid arms wrap around me, and I cling to him, feeling a strength I thought had slipped away forever. He hasn’t held me like this in months, maybe longer.
It’s him—my dad. My world.
I pull back just enough to look into his warm, blue eyes, that matches my own. His hands cradle my face, and his gaze moves over me with that old, familiar love. He leans in, kissing my cheek, and more tears spill as I whisper, “I’ve missed you. So much.”
He laughs, a soft sound that fills the room and wraps around my heart. “I’ve missed you too.”
I laugh with him, my relief raw. “I didn’t think I’d see you like this.”
He grins, his face alight with a joy I haven’t seen in so long. “I thought you said you wouldn’t be back until the end of the semester.”
End of the semester?I don’t understand.
Confusion stirs within me, tugging me from the moment. I glance at Aliyah, who stands by the door, her smile small, her gaze shifting between us with a quiet caution that speaks louder than words.
“What do you mean, Dad?” I ask gently.
“You’re back early, aren’t you?”
I blink rapidly, my fingers curling and uncurling at my sides, fidgeting with the hem of my sweater as unease creeps up my spine. “Back from where?”
“Barcelona, of course,” he says, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. His smile is open, innocent, proud, and it twists something deep inside me—a sharp ache I can’t ignore.
“B-Barcelona,” I stammer, the word barely audible as it stumbles out of my mouth. My hands twitch nervously, moving to the fabric of my tights, seeking something to grab onto.Damn these tight leggings.
I force myself to look back at Aliyah, desperation creeping into my eyes as I silently beg for answers. She steps forward, her expression softening as she reads the turmoil on my face.
“Yes, she wanted to surprise you,” Aliyah explains, her voice soft, almost hesitant, as though the words themselves are fragile. She looks at me like she’s holding back tears of her own. “Isn’t she the best daughter?”
My dad’s grin widens, his pride radiating like warmth. “Sure is. The best of the best, my Sophie.”
My Sophie.
Thoughts, memories, and a whirlwind of emotions crash through me, but I stay still, letting the moment wash over me, trying to hold onto this happiness of his, this clarity that feels so precious and fragile.
Why, then, is there a part of me that feels a pang of disappointment? He remembers. That’s what matters. He’s not afraid of me, not turning me away.
He remembers me.
And yet, it hurts because the Sophie he remembers is from another time, another place—a Sophie that exists only in his memory. The Sophie of today does not exist in his reality.
“And who is that gentleman?” he asks, suddenly noticing Liam by the door. His tone is casual, yet it has a strange twinge of formality to it.
Liam steps forward, his voice low, as he introduces himself. “Hello, sir. I’m Liam.”
For a moment, I almost forgot Liam was standing there, witnessing this tender, unraveling part of my life. “I’m a friend of Sophie’s,” he adds, glancing at me with a small, reassuring smile.
My dad tries to stand, his legs shaky but when he’s determined to do something there’s nothing stopping him.
“Dad, you don’t have to stand.”
“Oh, sir, please don’t—” Liam says at the same time, stepping forward, but my dad is stubborn. He stands and extends his hand, and Liam takes it with a respectful nod.
