“Mom,” Lily said after a moment, her voice smaller now, “can we go home?”
I crouched beside her, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “We just got here, sweetheart.”
“I know.” She swallowed, her eyes glistening but not quite spilling over. She had learned, somehow, to hold her tears in longer than she should have had to. “It’s just… I don’t think we’re supposed to be here.”
The words hit harder than anything else could have.
“Why would you say that?” I asked gently, though part of me already knew the answer.
She hesitated, then glanced toward the dance floor. “Because everyone else has their dad.”
I reached for her hand, squeezing it lightly. “You have a dad,” I said, my voice steady even as something inside me wavered. “Just because he’s not here doesn’t mean he’s not yours.”
“But he can’t dance with me,” she said.
No, I thought. He can’t.
Before I could respond, the sharp sound of heels against the gym floor cut through the noise, deliberate and precise in a way that didn’t quite match the setting.
