Blair’s P.O.V.I stood at the gate with my suitcase dragging at my side. The house looked the same, but it didn’t feel like home anymore. Curtains drawn, windows locked. Still, I waited, hoping Dad would come out—just once.Behind me, Mom leaned against the car, tapping her fingers on the roof. “Blair,” she called, her voice sharper than before. “He would rather not see you. Let’s go.”I ignored her and rang the bell again. The sound echoed inside, but nothing moved. My chest tightened. He was in there. I knew it. He just didn’t want to face me.I turned away, fighting the sting in my eyes, when the door creaked open.“Princess.”His voice was faint, broken. I spun back. Dad stood in the doorway, thinner than I remembered, with shadows beneath his eyes.“I… I didn’t hear the bell,” he said, his lips twisting into a forced smile.I knew he had, but I didn’t argue. I dropped my suitcase and ran into his arms. His embrace felt weaker, but it was still home.“I shouldn’t have shut you out
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