Gemotions

The sunlight sliced through the dusty windows of the spare bedroom, illuminating the letter in Emily’s hands. Her father’s neat, meticulous handwriting formed words that sparked a cold fire within her. He was leaving his high-powered engineering job, stating a desire for more “personal time.”

She traced the loops of his cursive. Personal time? He had never had time for her. Always buried in his work, always distant, always prioritizing the demands of his career over the needs of his own daughter. He'd missed graduations, birthdays, everything.

She tossed the letter onto the bed, the paper landing with a soft thud. It felt like another layer of denial, another refusal to confront the damage he had done. His supposed "personal time" had been at her expense.