The photographer Mom hired calls us over as soon as there’s enough space on the red carpet. She positions us quickly, adjusting our places according to the lights and the banner behind us.
We finish the first set and I ask for a few more with Mom and Alicia. When we’re done, the photographer glances between us and asks, “Do you want to take a few with your dad as well?
I look at him standing in front of us, beside Uncle Mark. He opens his mouth, already shaking his head. “That won’t be necessary, we—”
“Of course,” I cut in. “We can take a few.”
His shoulders drop, and something like relief crosses his face. He steps closer, and I raise a hand toward the photographer. “One second, please,” I say.
She nods and waits.
“Son, I—”
“Do you remember,” I cut in, my voice cold, “when you used to say this day would come? That it would be me up there, speaking for my entire class... just like you did when it was your turn?”
He swallows hard. “Y-Yes,” he says, forcing a strained smile.
“Last year, I started thinking about that even more. If I kept my grades up, it was practically a certainty. But even then—even before any of us knew what you were doing—I didn’t know what I’d ever thank you for in my speech. Not for the dinners you skipped. Not for the trips you never took with us. Or for the moments you showed up late... or didn’t show up at all.”
I draw in a deep breath.
“When I said yes to Alicia and let her invite you today, it was because some stupid part of me insisted on wanting you here. The part that imagined this day for years.”
I hesitate, but I don’t look away.
“The thing about dreams is that they end the moment you wake up. And the man I wanted you to be—for me, for our family—is nothing more than a ghost I made up.”
He blinks hard and looks away, his mouth tightening.
Your pain doesn’t outweigh mine, dear father. It isn’t more important. It isn’t more valid.
“So yes,” I continue in a level voice, “we’re going to take these photos. And when Mom sends them to you, when you’re holding them in your hands, I want you to remember the speech I gave today. And what I just told you now.”
I let the words sink in.
“When you look at my smile in those photos, I want you to understand something,” I say, my tone firm. “I’m smiling because I got herein spite of you... not because of you. And I’ll be smiling at the two people I love most in this world.”
He swallows hard and looks at me again, eyes glassy. “You’ll never know how sorry I am for everything, Ethan.”
I don’t acknowledge it. I don’t rush to fill the gap. I don’t apologize for any of it. His remorse isn’t mine to soothe.
I straighten my shoulders and step into place for the photo, then glance toward where the three of them are standing. Mom and Alicia both have the same look on their faces—watching us like they’re waiting for something to break.
I give them a smile. Alicia returns it immediately. Mom doesn’t. She knows me too well. Her eyes stay locked on mine, searching, worried.
I turn back to the photographer and tell her we’re ready. Then I shift my gaze to him.
“You can smile too, Dad,” I say evenly. “Your son graduated today at the top of his class; that’s enough pride for anyone to brag about. So smile. Show Alicia she isn’t wrong for not giving up on you.”
For a moment, he has a faraway look on his face. A look that twists something in my chest. I ignore it.
He’s the one who chose this. He’s the one who didn’t choose us.
Some things hurt. Some things scar. And some things you simply don’t get back.
Mom unlocks the front door and we all file in.
“Not going to any parties tonight?” Uncle Mark asks, giving me a friendly slap between the shoulder blades.
