“Papa.”
The word escaped my lips naturally, without the interference of the Mesugaki Skill.
Benedict, who had been kneeling on the snow, slowly raised his head. His eyes, brimming with tears, met mine. The sight made something within me stir—a strange, bittersweet ache I couldn’t fully understand but somehow felt intimately familiar.
“I forgive you.”
The words flowed effortlessly, as if they were not my own, but those of another who had been waiting to speak them for a very long time. They carried a warmth and weight that surprised even me.
Benedict’s expression twisted, as if the simple phrase had pierced through all the guilt and sorrow he had been carrying. Tears spilled freely from his eyes as he shook his head.
“No... I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I—”
“Shh.”
I raised a finger to my lips and tilted my head with a teasing smile.
“Papa, you’re such a crybaby. It’s embarrassing.”
His lips quivered as he stared at me, caught between sobbing and laughing. His trembling hands reached out, hesitant, as if afraid I might pull away. Instead, I placed my hand firmly over his, holding it with a warmth that was both mine and not mine.
“Let’s just go for a walk, okay? The snow’s already cleared up, and it’s a perfect day for an aimless stroll. Unless, of course, you’re too old to keep up with your daughter?”
Benedict blinked, then let out a laugh—a genuine, heartfelt laugh that seemed to lighten the weight of the moment.
“Old? You think this father of yours can’t handle a little snow?”
“I’ll believe it when I see it. Let’s go!”
I stood and tugged gently at his hand, guiding him to his feet. The snow crunched under our boots as we began walking together, the biting chill of winter unable to touch the warmth between us.
Behind us, unseen, the others watched from a distance. Arthur, Joy, and Frey exchanged glances, their earlier concerns melting away as they saw the light return to Benedict’s eyes and the bright smile on Lucy’s face.
The sourc𝗲 of this content is frёeωebɳovel.com.
Arthur crossed his arms, sighing in relief. “I suppose that worked out better than expected.”
Joy smiled softly, wiping at her own misty eyes. “It’s good to see them both smiling like that.”
Meanwhile, Frey tilted her head, pondering something aloud. “Does this mean I don’t have to do anything else? Or should I go find that crying orb again?”
Arthur groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Frey, please.”
As the snow continued to fall, father and daughter walked together, their steps creating new tracks in the untouched white.
For the first time in a long while, both felt the heavy weight of their burdens ease, if only a little.
And for the first time, the winter air seemed warm.
Benedict followed closely behind, his steps hesitant at first, but they gradually became steadier. He held onto the warmth of Lucy’s hand, his fingers gripping hers like a lifeline. The snowstorm seemed to part before them, leaving a clear path as if the heavens themselves acknowledged their fragile reconciliation.
“Papa,” Lucy called out, breaking the silence. She turned her head slightly, her cheek catching the glow of the faint sunlight peeking through the clouds.
“Yes, Lucy?”
“I don’t remember everything clearly,” she admitted, her voice soft but resolute. “But I remember enough. Enough to know that you’re not the monster you think you are.”
Benedict stopped in his tracks, his body stiffening. The weight of her words pressed down on him, but he remained silent, waiting for her to continue.
“I hated you for a long time,” Lucy admitted bluntly. Her eyes were clear, but there was no malice in her tone. “I hated how you weren’t there. I hated how you turned away. But most of all, I hated how you made me feel like I wasn’t enough.”
The words stabbed deeply, and Benedict’s head lowered in shame. He opened his mouth to speak, but Lucy cut him off.
“But that’s not the whole story,” she said, her grip on his hand tightening. “I also remember the times you tried. The times you smiled, even though it hurt. And the times you fought so hard to protect me, even when you were breaking inside.”
Her voice wavered, but she continued, her words carrying the weight of both past pain and present clarity.
“Papa, I know you think you don’t deserve forgiveness. But forgiveness isn’t something you earn. It’s something I give because I want to. Because I love you.”
Tears streamed down Benedict’s face, his body trembling with the effort to hold back the sobs threatening to escape. Finally, he let go, collapsing onto his knees as his emotions overwhelmed him.
Lucy knelt with him, wrapping her arms tightly around his shoulders. “Stop carrying everything alone, Papa. You’re not alone anymore. You have me.”