I had been waiting near the folding chairs for almost twenty minutes.
Every other girl had someone. Ties and boots and proud smiles, lifting daughters by the waist like princesses. Even Mr. Wheeler—the janitor from my school—was dancing with his niece like it was the best night of his life.
But my dad wasn’t there.
I kept checking the door. The big one with the old brass handle that stuck a little when you pulled it. I was trying not to cry, because I’d done my hair all by myself, and I didn’t want the curls to fall out.
And then, just when I thought maybe he really wasn’t coming at all—
The door creaked.
He stepped in wearing jeans, his vest, and the same hat he always wore for work. He looked around the room, spotted me, and I saw that look in his eyes.
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Regret. Mixed with something else I couldn’t place.
I walked up to him slowly.
“You’re late,” I said. My voice came out quieter than I wanted.
He knelt just a little, held out a single white rose.
“I had to stop by somewhere first.”
“Where?”
He didn’t answer right away.
Just leaned in and whispered,
“I had to make sure she wouldn’t stop us from having this night.”
My fingers were still holding the stem when I realized—
He wasn’t wearing his wedding ring.
“Daddy… where’s Mom?” I asked, the question tasting strange in my mouth.
His jaw tensed. His hands gently guided mine to hold the rose more carefully, like it was something fragile.
“She’s… resting now,” he said softly. “She’s not going to yell tonight. She’s not going to ruin this for us.”
Something about his voice didn’t feel right. Too calm.
I looked past him toward the hallway.
“Where did you go?”
He smiled a little.
“To the lake. Just like she always threatened she’d go when she was angry.”
I froze.
He reached for my hand again, this time gently pulling me toward the dance floor.
“I promised you I’d be here. And I am. Tonight’s yours, baby girl.”
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I felt dizzy.
Everyone else in the gym kept dancing, spinning, laughing. The music played on like nothing had changed. But I could feel the truth crawling just beneath the surface of his words.
“Daddy… is Mom okay?” I whispered.
He looked down, the smile fading from his face.
“She’s not coming back.”
And then, very softly—almost too softly for me to hear—he added:
“She made me choose.”
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I stood completely still, the rose trembling in my hand.
The music kept playing. A familiar slow song. Something about “forever love.” It felt like a cruel joke now.
“What do you mean?” I asked, my voice barely louder than the music.
He looked around—nervously this time—then pulled me gently toward the corner of the gym, near the balloon arch where no one could hear us.
“I wasn’t going to come,” he said. “She told me not to. Said I didn’t deserve to see you after everything.”
“After what?”
He hesitated. His eyes were red now—not from crying, but from something deeper. Like he’d been unraveling for days. Maybe weeks.
“I tried to keep it together for you,” he whispered. “But your mom—she was getting worse. She said I had to choose between her and you. Between living a lie… or finally being free.”
He swallowed hard, then added, “So I drove her to the lake.”
Silence.
My stomach twisted. “What happened at the lake, Dad?”
“She screamed at me the whole way there. Said she’d take you from me. Said she’d vanish and tell everyone I was unfit.”
He ran a hand over his face. “She got out of the truck and started walking toward the edge. Said she wasn’t afraid to jump if it meant punishing me.”
My chest hurt. My head was spinning.
“Did she—jump?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled something out.
A small silver locket.
Mom’s.
He opened it and held it out. Inside was a tiny photo—me as a baby, held in her arms. But across the glass was a deep crack.
“She dropped this when she ran,” he said. “I don’t know if she’s gone. Or if she’s hiding. But I’m telling you now before the police come asking questions. I’m not going to lie to them.”
My throat went dry. “Why are you telling me all of this? Why now?”
He knelt again. His voice broke completely.
“Because I couldn’t live another day pretending. You deserve the truth. I didn’t push her. I didn’t hurt her. But I didn’t stop her either.”
My vision blurred with tears. I looked around the gym. No one had noticed a thing.
I turned back to my father. “What happens now?”
He looked away, then stood up slowly. “That’s up to her. If she comes back… or if she doesn’t.”
Suddenly, the gym doors slammed open.
A police officer walked in, scanning the room.
His eyes locked on us.
“Jason Moore?” the officer called.
My father froze.
Then—he turned to me one last time.
“Dance with me, just once more?” he asked quietly.
And for reasons I couldn’t explain… I said yes.
