The day had been meant for laughter. Her father had packed the cooler, loaded the fishing poles, and driven them all to the lake, his voice almost light as he gave Daniel tips and teased Elise for humming along with the radio. For a while, Miriam let herself believe this was what family felt like, her place secure beside them.
But when her line tangled and she insisted he was tying the knot wrong, his expression changed. The softness drained from his face, replaced by a sharpness that startled her. “If you know so much, do it yourself,” he snapped, thrusting the pole back into her hands. The words cut deeper than the tone, final in a way she didn’t yet understand.
The rest of the day passed in silence for Miriam. Daniel laughed, Elise skipped stones, and their father praised them both while Miriam trailed behind, her cheeks burning with questions she couldn’t name. She didn’t know it then, but that single exchange would shadow every year that followed, marking the end of the girl he once carried on his shoulders and the beginning of the distance she would never bridge.