Chapter 41 Chapter forty one

Chapter 41 Chapter forty one
Mira’s pov

I got dressed quietly, grabbed my bag, and slipped out before Mom or Aunt Ruth could wake up. The streets were too quiet as I walked to the bus stop. I had woken up supper early because I had to meet Dad before school and I didn't want mum asking where I was going that early.
He was already at the bus stop when I got there, and it took me a second to actually recognize him. He was now leaner than the last time, his cheeks hollowed out in a way that made his eyes look bigger, tired.
“Cupcake,” he said softly, stopping a few feet away like he wasn’t sure a hug was still allowed.
I stepped forward anyway and wrapped my arms around him. He held on just as tight, one hand pressed flat against my back, like he was scared I might pull away. We stayed like that for a long moment before stepping back.
For a second neither of us said anything, both of us just looking, cataloguing everything the years had changed. My chest ached with how much I wanted to ask him everything and how scared I was of every possible answer.
“How’s school?” he asked, shoving his hands into his pockets, not quite meeting my eyes.
“It’s… fine,” I said, shrugging one shoulder. “Busy. Finals are coming up soon, plus loads of homework. I’ve got a tutoring gig on top of everything.”
“Tutoring?” His eyebrows rose, a small spark of surprise lighting his face. “You’re tutoring someone?”
“Homeschooled girl named Sloane. She’s sweet, actually.”
“Look at you.” He shook his head slowly, a tired smile tugging at his mouth. “Taking care of everyone but yourself, huh?”
We talked for another twenty minutes while we waited for the bus.
“You still doing that coding stuff?”
“JavaScript, mostly.” I added with a small laugh. “You’d hate it. Too many brackets.”
He chuckled quietly, and for a moment it almost felt normal. Like we were just a regular dad and daughter catching up instead of two people carefully stepping through the wreckage of everything that had happened.
“Any boys I should know about?” he tried, keeping his tone light, though something careful sat underneath the question.
“No boys,” I answered, fiddling with the strap of my bag. “Mom said no boys until I’m twenty.”
“She’s right about that,” he said, nodding. “Focus on your studies for now.”
We talked for another twenty minutes before asking if I could come by after school, just to see him again, and I said yes without thinking twice.
I made it to school with ten minutes to spare. I found a quiet spot in the hallway, unwrapped the sandwich I’d grabbed from the corner store, and ate with my head down, chewing fast so no one would notice. The janitors moved quietly around me. Then loud footsteps echoed from the entrance.
Nat.
He was walking with focus and the second he saw me, his whole face shifted into something practiced, disgust arranged carefully across his features. He didn’t say anything, he just passed looking at me like he would step on me.
I swallowed the last bite, throat tight, and hurried to my locker. As I pulled out my books, he leaned against the locker next to mine. My hands stayed steady through sheer force of will while I grabbed my textbook like his presence wasn’t affecting me at all.
He stayed there the whole time, watching me with that same expression.
Two girls from my English class walked by a minute later, slowing just enough to see the drama, then speeding up again once they realized there was no scene to watch, just him standing there radiating contempt in complete silence. Somehow that felt worse than if he had said something out loud. At least words could be argued with but silence just sat there, immovable, impossible to fight back against.
“So this is how early you come to do your stalker job, huh?” he finally bit out.
“I’m not the stalker,” I muttered, barely loud enough for him to hear, shutting my locker.
“What business do you have with my father?” His voice rose behind me.
I ignored him and kept walking to class, shoulders stiff, heart hammering.
Classes weren’t as interesting as they usually were, my mind kept circling at dad’s condition and wished mum could tell me what happened, that will make me know how best to handle this situation. 
I heard back the years that feared to come out, old images when Dad was healthy and strong kept replaying he looked three times older than his age. I tried pushing my mind but each time I unconsciously checked time every now and then. I skipped lunch, using the period to study instead, trying to drown everything out with notes and formulas.
By the final bell, I felt hollowed out in a way that had nothing to do with hunger.
I texted Elma on the bus, told her I was heading to see my dad, and promised to call later. She sent back a string of hearts and a reminder to eat something. The bus dropped me two blocks from the address he had sent, a squat apartment building with a busted intercom and a hallway that smelled like old carpet. I found his door number and knocked twice before he opened it.
The apartment behind him was smaller than my bedroom, a mattress on the floor, a single lamp, no real furniture beyond a folding chair pushed against the wall. A stack of unopened mail sat on the windowsill, his name barely visible through the plastic window of one envelope. A small television sat on an overturned crate, the antenna bent at an angle that probably only caught two channels.
“It’s not much.” He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Please, sit.”
My chest ached as I looked around.
“Do you need anything?” I glanced around, cataloguing everything the room didn’t have. “Blankets? Clothes?”
“I’m fine, Cupcake. Really.” He tried to smile, though it didn’t quite land. “I have a job interview on Thursday, warehouse position. I’m hoping for the best.”
“That’s good.” I wanted to believe it as much as he seemed to want me to. “Really good, Dad.”
He wasn’t fine, obviously, but I let it go, pulling two twenties and a ten out of my bag, all the cash I had on me, and pressing it into his hand before he could argue.
“I’ll bring food tomorrow,” I said. “Something real. Not takeout.”
“Cupcake, you don’t have to-”
“I want to.” I glanced at the bare mattress, the bent antenna, the whole small sad shape of his new life. “I’ll bring extra. For the fridge, so you have something for a few days.”
“Aww look at my little girl.” He said it soft, half joking, though his eyes were wet. “I’m sorry I failed you and mom. It wasn’t my intention to betray my family, but I’m seeking justice.”
“It’s okay dad, I will visit you often."
He hugged me at the door, I held on just as tight, the ache in my chest finally getting a little quieter.
I stepped out into the hallway a few minutes later, wiping my eyes before anyone could see, and looked up straight into Kem’s face.
She stood a few feet away, eyebrows raised.
“Is that not your Dad?”