Lucian doesn’t interrupt. He just waits.
“The main memory I remember was you making waffles in the morning and mom singing along to the radio.”
Lucian smiles. “I’d make waffles every Sunday. It was a tradition my parents had with me that I wanted to continue.”
I smile. “You said your mom died; is your dad still alive?”
Lucian shakes his head, letting out a heavy exhale. “No, they both died in a car accident.”
“I’m sorry.” My brows furrow.
“It’s alright, it happened a long time ago.”
We’re both silent for a moment.
“What was it like before? When we were… us. All together.”
His expression changes, softens with something that might be grief, or longing. Or both.
“You were always awake before the sun,” he says after a moment. “Used to crawl into bed with me just to watch the light come through the blinds. You had this little stuffed bear, mangy thing. You named it Monster.”
“Sounds about right.”
“You were loud when you were happy, and quiet when something was wrong. You always knew when something was wrong.”
He shifts in the chair. “You hated wearing shoes. You ran barefoot down every hallway, every park path.”
“I still do,” I murmur. “Well, I would if the paths weren’t covered with broken glass and needles.”
Lucian’s smile dims.
“What about her?” I ask. “What was she like… before?”
He’s quiet for a long time. “She was bright,” he says after a long pause. “Fun. Reckless, sometimes. But she loved you. I never doubted that.”
“But she left.”
His eyes meet mine. “She ran.”
Right. It’s something I’ll need to get used to.
“She didn’t even take any of your things,” he adds. “No records. Just you.”
I swallow hard, my throat thick.
“I used to think maybe you didn’t want me,” I whisper. “That maybe I wasn’t enough to come back for.”
Lucian’s voice is rough when he says, “That was never true. You’re my daughter. You were the only thing I ever wanted back.”
I sit with his words, letting them settle like dust in my chest.
Then I look at him, at the man with the iron-straight posture and the weariness buried in his eyes. The stranger who isn’t quite a stranger anymore.
“What about now?” I ask. “What’s your life like?”
Lucian tilts his head a little, raises his eyebrows. “Now?”
“Yeah. After me. Without me.”
