Cars lined the curb, and clusters of fathers stood outside with their daughters, laughing, lifting them into the air, adjusting dresses and hair bows. The sound of it all, joyful and effortless, felt almost unbearable.
I reached over and squeezed Anna’s hand. “Ready?”
She took a small breath. “I think so.”
Inside, the gym had been transformed. Streamers hung from the ceiling. Pink and silver balloons floated everywhere. A disco ball scattered light across the polished floor. Music pulsed through the space as fathers and daughters danced, laughed, and posed for photos.
Anna’s steps slowed almost immediately.
“Do you see any of your friends?” I asked gently.
She scanned the room. “They’re all with their dads.”
We moved toward the edge of the gym, sticking close to the wall. I could feel the glances. People noticed us. They noticed the absence. They noticed the way Anna clung just a little too tightly to my side.
