Souvenir - Chapter 5.5

She wasn’t just some responsibility I had taken on—she was family.

And family wasn’t something you abandoned.

Before I could respond, Su suddenly appeared beside me, tugging on my sleeve.

“Papa!”

I turned, seeing her flushed cheeks and bright, excited eyes.

“I made a new friend! Can she come say hi?”

I smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Of course.”

She grinned, turning back to wave at the other child.

Kenny watched us quietly before standing up, smoothing down her dress. “I should go. I’ve already kept you long enough.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded. “Yeah. But it was nice seeing you again, Tommy.”

She hesitated, then added, “And… I think you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.”

I met her gaze, understanding the weight of her words.

“Take care, Kenny.”

She smiled, gave me a small wave, and walked off into the crowd.

Su returned a moment later, dragging her new friend by the hand.

“Papa, this is Lily!”

I smiled down at the little girl. “Nice to meet you, Lily.”

She giggled. “Your papa looks like a prince!”

Su puffed out her chest proudly. “I know.”

I chuckled, shaking my head.

Yes.

This—this was exactly where I was meant to be.

I drove us home as the last rays of the sun dipped below the skyline, casting the city in a soft golden glow. The streets were quieter now, the rush of the day settling into the slow hum of evening.

Su sat in the passenger seat, her little hands folded neatly in her lap. She had stopped talking about the fish for now, but I could tell she was still thinking about it. Her mind worked in ways that never ceased to amaze me—so observant, so perceptive.

I reached over and gently ruffled her golden hair.

“We’ll go back for the fish this weekend,” I said.

Su turned to me with wide eyes. “Really?”

“Really. But you have to promise to take care of it properly.”

“I will! I promise!” She beamed, her earlier melancholy completely replaced with excitement.

That was the thing about Su—her emotions shifted quickly, but they always felt so genuine.

I smiled as I pulled the car into the driveway. She hopped out eagerly, still chattering about the fish, about what she would name it, where she would put the tank. It was moments like these that made everything—every sacrifice, every choice—feel worth it.

Inside, I helped her change into her pajamas, brushed her hair, and tucked her into bed. It was our little ritual now. A routine that had become second nature.

“Papa,” she said suddenly, as I pulled the blanket up to her chin.

I froze for a second.

It had been a while since she called me that inside the house.

Su smiled sleepily. “You know… I think I like calling you ‘Papa’ better.”

My heart clenched.

She had noticed.

Not just today, but for a long time. She had seen the way I reacted when she called me by my name, the way my eyes lingered a second longer, the way I swallowed back a strange, unexplainable feeling of loss.

And she had decided to fix it.

For me.