A parent is not defined by the title they claim when people are watching.
They are defined by the mornings they get up when they are exhausted.
The bills they quietly pay.
The school events they attend.
The tears they wipe.
The promises they keep.
The excuses they make when they are trying to protect a child from someone else’s absence.
Elena had spent years telling herself that she had been kept away.
But the returned letters told another story.
The drawings told another.
The journal told another.
And six daughters standing around the same man told the clearest story of all.
Their father had never needed to convince anyone he loved them.
He had spent fifteen years proving it.
