He sounded relieved.
They always made plans for another date.
By the following morning, she was gone.
No phone calls.
No messages.
No explanation.
The first time, Dad assumed she had become busy.
The second, he believed he had misread her interest.
By the third, he blamed himself.
“Maybe I talk about your mother too much,” he said.
“You barely mention her on dates.”
“Maybe I am too old-fashioned.”
“You held a door open for her. That is not a crime.”
He managed a tired smile, but my reassurance never truly reached him.
Each rejection broke his heart.
“I don’t understand,” he’d whisper.
“They all seemed so happy.”
Watching him lose confidence was painful.
