The drive home was quiet.
Not because anyone wanted it to be.
Because Ellie was asleep.
Completely asleep.
The excitement of the park had finally caught up with her.
She remained curled against Sebastian's chest in the backseat, her head resting on his shoulder.
Even asleep, she refused to let go of his shirt.
Sebastian didn't mind.
Not even a little.
Every now and then he glanced down at her.
Just to make sure she was still there.
Still real.
Still his daughter.
Lillian noticed every single glance.
She didn't say anything.
The sight hurt and warmed her heart at the same time.
When they arrived at the apartment building, Sebastian carefully climbed out of the car.
Ellie didn't wake up.
Not even slightly.
"How is she still asleep?" Sebastian asked quietly.
Lillian smiled.
"She used up all her energy."
"I didn't think that was possible."
"It is."
A pause.
"Apparently."
Together they headed upstairs.
The apartment remained quiet as Lillian unlocked the door.
Sebastian carried Ellie inside.
Still asleep.
Still clutching his shirt.
Lillian quietly opened Ellie's bedroom door.
The room was dim.
Peaceful.
Filled with stuffed animals.
Sebastian stepped inside.
Carefully.
Like he was afraid of disturbing the moment.
He knelt beside the bed and slowly lowered Ellie onto her mattress.
For a second everything seemed fine.
Then he tried to pull away.
A tiny hand immediately tightened around his shirt.
Sebastian froze.
Lillian covered her mouth.
Trying not to laugh.
Even asleep, Ellie wasn't letting him escape.
"Daddy."
The sleepy mumble was barely audible.
Sebastian's heart nearly stopped.
"I'm here."
Ellie relaxed immediately.
Her grip loosened.
A few seconds later she was asleep again.
As though she'd never woken up at all.
Sebastian remained sitting beside the bed.
Watching her.
Long after he should have left.
Long after Lillian quietly stepped out of the room.
Eventually he followed.
But the image stayed with him.
Ellie reaching for him.
Trusting him.
Wanting him there.
The rest of the evening passed peacefully.
Dinner.
Bath time.
A story before bed.
Then silence.
The apartment settled into its nighttime routine.
Ellie slept.
Lillian retreated to her room.
And Sebastian returned to the guest room.
For the first time all day, he was alone.
The happiness from the park remained.
But now something else had joined it.
A dull ache.
An emptiness.
Because today had shown him something.
Not what he had.
What he had missed.
Seeing Ellie laugh.
Seeing her run through the park.
Seeing her fall asleep in his arms.
Those moments should not have felt new.
They should have been familiar.
Normal.
Three years ago, he should have been there.
Instead, he had been somewhere else.
Working.
Drinking.
Destroying himself.
Sebastian rubbed a hand over his face.
Then stood.
Unable to sit still.
He opened the closet.
Looking for absolutely nothing in particular.
A blanket perhaps.
Maybe another pillow.
Instead, he noticed a box.
A simple storage box pushed toward the back.
Sebastian hesitated.
Then pulled it out.
Inside was a photo album.
His chest tightened immediately.
He already knew what it was.
And part of him didn't want to open it.
Because he knew what he would find.
Three years.
Three years of memories.
Three years without him.
Slowly, he opened the cover.
The first photograph almost stole the breath from his lungs.
A newborn baby.
Tiny.
Wrapped in a blanket.
Sleeping peacefully.
Ellie.
His daughter.
Hours old.
Sebastian stared at the photograph.
Then turned the page.
Another picture.
Then another.
Then another.
Each page revealed a moment he'd never seen.
Baby Ellie asleep in a crib.
Baby Ellie learning to sit up.
Baby Ellie covered in food.
Baby Ellie laughing.
Baby Ellie crying.
Baby Ellie existing.
Growing.
Living.
Without him.
Sebastian swallowed hard.
His chest felt tight.
Every photograph was a reminder.
A reminder that life had continued.
Whether he was there or not.
Then he reached a photograph that made him freeze.
Ellie standing unsteadily.
Tiny arms stretched toward the camera.
A huge smile on her face.
Taking her first steps.
The first steps he never saw.
The first steps he never encouraged.
The first steps he never celebrated.
Something inside him cracked.
Slowly he lowered his gaze.
Unable to look at the photograph any longer.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
Sebastian didn't answer.
A few moments later the door opened anyway.
Lillian stepped inside.
She immediately saw the album.
And understood.
"Oh."
Sebastian looked up.
For the first time she saw tears in his eyes.
Not many.
Just enough.
Lillian's heart hurt instantly.
She quietly entered the room.
Then sat beside him on the bed.
Neither spoke for a while.
There was nothing to say.
Not at first.
Finally Sebastian looked down at one of the photographs.
Then asked quietly:
"Was she happy?"
Lillian's expression softened.
She understood immediately.
He wasn't asking about today.
He was asking about the last three years.
The years he'd missed.
The years he'd never get back.
Lillian looked at the album.
Then smiled softly.
"Yes."
Sebastian nodded.
The answer hurt.
And relieved him.
At the same time.
Then Lillian added:
"But she would've been happier with you there."
The room fell silent.
Sebastian stared at the photograph in his hands.
Unable to respond.
Because he knew she was right.
A few moments later he finally spoke.
His voice barely above a whisper.
"I don't know if she'll ever forgive me."
Lillian looked toward the hallway.
Toward Ellie's room.
Toward the little girl who adored him despite everything.
Then she smiled.
A small smile.
A gentle one.
"She's three."
Sebastian looked at her.
"She already has."
The words hit harder than anything else.
Because they were true.
Ellie wasn't angry.
She wasn't resentful.
She wasn't holding grudges.
She was simply happy that he was here.
Tears burned behind Sebastian's eyes again.
This time he didn't fight them.
After a while, Lillian quietly stood.
Giving him space.
Before leaving, she paused at the door.
Then looked back.
"Goodnight, Sebastian."
His voice was rough.
"Goodnight, Lillian."
Then she was gone.
Leaving him alone with the album.
For a long time he continued turning pages.
Watching his daughter's life unfold through photographs.
Birthday parties.
Christmas mornings.
Trips to the playground.
Messy art projects.
Countless smiles.
Countless memories.
Then he reached another photograph.
And stopped.
A very young Ellie sat on a blanket.
A stuffed rabbit clutched tightly in her tiny arms.
The rabbit looked almost brand new.
Loved already.
Treasured.
Sebastian stared at the picture.
His vision blurred.
And finally, quietly, tears slipped down his cheeks.
Not for himself.
Not because he was sick.
Not because he was scared.
But because he had lost three years.
Three years he would never get back.
Three years with his daughter.
Yet despite that loss, one thought remained.
He still had tomorrow.
And the day after that.
And every day he fought to stay.
This time, he wasn't going to lose them.