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

That was the part of him I’d forgotten even existed. The man who once smiled, once laughed. Before grief hardened him, before the years made him cruel, Kaia saw through all of that and gave him a piece of something he thought he’d lost forever.

Not pity, not guilt, hope. She didn’t try to fix him. She just reminded him that he used to be someone worth remembering.

And in return, he gave her something too. Maybe not love, maybe not forgiveness, but a beginning. And sometimes, that’s enough.

The music box now sits on Kaia’s nightstand. Every night before bed, she winds it up. Not always to listen.

Sometimes she just likes to hold it. To feel its weight in her hands. To know it’s there.

The way a child might clutch a stuffed animal they’ve outgrown but still can’t let go of. She hasn’t said much about that day since. But every now and then, she’ll mention grandma.

Someone she never even met, but speaks about like she’s still here. Like she’s someone Kaia knows through the stories I’ve told and the quiet space she left behind. And maybe she does.

Frank never called. He didn’t send a follow-up message. No, I’m sorry.

No explanations. That’s not who he is. Maybe that’s not who he’ll ever be.

But a week after the music box arrived, I got a letter. It wasn’t addressed to Kaia. It was for me.

It was short. Three lines written in the same uneven handwriting. I was wrong.

About you. She’s a good kid. I hope you’re doing okay.

No name. But I knew. And for reasons I can’t quite explain, I cried after reading it.

Not because it made everything better. Not because it fixed the years of silence or the way he used to look through me like I was a disappointment wearing a name tag. But because for once, it felt like he saw me.

And more than that, he saw Kaia. He saw what I’ve always known. That she’s special.

That she has this way of peeling back the coldness in a room and showing people their own warmth, even when they don’t deserve it. She’s not loud. She doesn’t demand attention.

But she changes things. She changed him. Not completely, but enough…