My daughter opened her gift, an empty box. My father laughed..

The way your hands betray you when your heart’s thudding in your chest. When you’re trying to be brave, even though every part of you wants to run. He took it from her like it meant nothing, slid it open with one hand while still holding his glass in the other.

Then he looked down and stopped. I couldn’t see what was on the paper from where I sat, but I saw his face. It didn’t twist in confusion or irritation like I expected.

Instead, his eyebrows drew together. He blinked once, then again. His jaw slackened just slightly, like he’d forgotten what he was doing.

The entire room seemed to lean in. What is it? Sandra asked, impatient. He didn’t answer.

He just stared. Kaia stood there, hands clasped in front of her now, watching him quietly like she wasn’t sure what came next either. I got up and crossed the room, slowly, almost afraid to break the moment.

I stepped beside her and gently placed my hand on her back. She didn’t look at me. She just kept her eyes on Frank, and he looked older than I’d ever seen him.

Not angry, not smug, just still. He folded the paper carefully, deliberately, almost reverently, and placed it on the side table next to his chair. Then he stood up.

No one knew what to say. No one moved. He walked out of the room without a word.

The sound of his footsteps down the hallway was the only thing we could hear. He didn’t slam the door, didn’t shout, just… left. I looked down at Kaia.

Her voice was quiet when she asked, Did I do something wrong? I knelt beside her, wrapped my arms around her, and whispered, No, sweetheart. You did something brave. Sandra muttered something under her breath, but this time, I didn’t care.

Because I knew, whatever Kaia had drawn, whatever she had written, it got through to him in a way none of us ever could. She didn’t fight back with anger. She didn’t cry or scream or run.

She gave him a gift, one that reminded him he was still human, even if he’d forgotten. And I think, just maybe, that scared him more than anything else. I didn’t see my father for the rest of the day.

He didn’t return to the living room, didn’t come back for dinner, not even when my mother called out that dessert was ready, in that overly sweet tone she used when pretending everything was fine. Kaia didn’t mention him again that evening. She played quietly with the ribbon from one of her other small gifts and helped me fold the wrapping paper scraps like it was any other night.

But I could tell her mind was somewhere else. Every now and then, her eyes would wander toward the hallway where Frank had disappeared, like she was waiting for something. But nothing happened…