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The call came during my lunch break, a shrill jolt against the hum of the office. It was her teacher. My heart immediately clenched. Something’s wrong.“Everything’s fine, really,” she began, too brightly, “but she said something quite… specific today. About the upcoming ‘Donuts with Dad’ day.”I held my breath, bracing myself. My daughter, bless her innocent, observant heart.
The teacher laughed nervously. “I tried to explain it’s a special day for dads, but she was quite adamant. Said you fix her bike, teach her how to throw a baseball, and help with her science projects. It was quite sweet, actually.”Sweet? It was a gut punch. A public declaration of my greatest, most shameful secret. I mumbled something about talking to my daughter, hung up, and just stared at my phone screen, utterly numb.
A quiet, snowy street | Source: Midjourney
A quiet, snowy street | Source: Midjourney
“She does all the Dad stuff anyway.”