Chapter 4

"Mom, can you send the performance video to Dad?"

Lucy leaned across the dining table, sliding her phone over to me.

I set my coffee mug down. "Of course, sweetie."

A bright, triumphant smile instantly lit up her face. "The teacher took a really good video! You can't even tell I messed up that one note."

I chuckled softly. "You played beautifully the whole way through."

Lucy lowered her head, a soft blush dusting her cheeks. "But..." She pressed her lips together slightly. "Dad still didn't get to hear it."

The air in the room suddenly grew quiet.

After a brief pause, I tapped Send.

The text was simple: Lucy's First Solo.

I sent the video straight to Ethan.

Less than a minute later, his reply popped up.

Can't wait to watch it. Tonight, I promise.

I stared at that last word on the screen.

Promise.

For some reason, a sudden, suffocating tightness seized my chest.

By eight that evening, after her bath, Lucy didn't head straight to her bedroom like she usually did. Instead, she sat on the couch clutching her teddy bear, her eyes glued to the front door.

When Ethan finally walked through the door, Lucy scrambled up immediately. "Daddy!"

Ethan smiled and swept her up in a hug. "Why are you still up, pumpkin?"

Lucy didn't answer the question. She just looked at him earnestly. "Did you watch the video?"

Ethan froze for a second, then patted her head apologetically. "Daddy was stuck in meetings all day, kiddo. But I'll definitely watch it tonight."

Lucy's eyes brightened again. "Really?"

"Really." Ethan smiled softly. "I promise."

There it was again.

I stood by the kitchen counter, watching them, feeling an indescribable exhaustion settle deep into my bones.

Once upon a time, whenever Ethan said "I promise," I believed him without hesitation. Now, the word filled me with nothing but dread.

With that reassurance, Lucy finally went to her room to sleep.

Ethan sank into the sofa, loosening his tie. He pulled out his phone and opened the video file.

On the screen, Lucy stood center stage in her white dress, glowing under the spotlight.

Just as the music was about to play, his phone blared.

Caller ID: Ava.

Ethan frowned slightly, but he answered it anyway.

Through the receiver, Ben's frantic, sobbing voice echoed instantly. "Ethan... Ben's having a terrible nightmare..."

I stood behind the kitchen wall. I couldn't hear the rest of their conversation—only his final words.

"I'm coming."

Ethan grabbed his car keys off the table and headed for the door.

"Didn't you promise Lucy you'd finish watching her video?" I finally spoke up, my voice cutting through the quiet.

His steps faltered. "I'll watch it the second I get back. Ben's really unstable right now." He looked at me, his eyes pleading. "Nora, you know how much he relies on me."

I stared at him quietly.

It was the first time I didn't step in to cover for him or say, "Go ahead."

Instead, I simply asked, "And what about Lucy?"

Ethan blinked, thrown off. "Lucy will understand."

He said it so naturally, as if stating an indisputable fact.

I didn't argue. Because it suddenly hit me—all these years, he had taken it for granted that Lucy would "understand" because she was a good, sensible kid.

And that was precisely why Lucy always came last.

It was one in the morning by the time Ethan got home.

He pushed Lucy's bedroom door open quietly. She was already fast asleep, still hugging her plush bear tightly.

Ethan stood by her bed, offering a faint, tired smile. "Daddy's going to spend time with you tomorrow, little one."

He tucked the blanket neatly around her shoulders and walked back to the living room. Sitting down on the couch, he unlocked his phone and opened the video again.

But within ten seconds, his eyelids grew heavy. Before the video even reached Lucy's first note, the phone slipped from his fingers and landed softly on the cushion.

The screen went dark.

The next morning.

Lucy sat at the breakfast table, a warm glass of milk steaming in front of her. Hearing footsteps, she looked up instantly.

"Dad! Did you watch it last night?"

Ethan paused mid-motion while adjusting his tie. A fleeting look of guilt crossed his face before he managed an apologetic smile. "Daddy got caught up with something late last night, sweetie. I promise I'll watch it tonight."

Lucy looked at him quietly. "Really?"

Then, she gave a tiny, subtle nod. "Okay."

She lowered her head and resumed eating her breakfast in silence.

Watching her, a painful realization struck me: A child doesn't grow up because of time passing. They grow up the moment they realize that an adult's promise comes with an expiration date.

After breakfast, Lucy threw on her backpack, ready for school.

As she reached the foyer, she suddenly doubled back, pulled a bright crayon from her bag, and ran over to her small notebook.

She drew another empty chair on the page. Once finished, she snapped the booklet shut, said goodbye to me, and walked out the door.

My eyes welled up with tears instantly.

Because I finally understood—those empty chairs had never been about the seats at school.

They were every single spot in her life where her father had failed to show up.