I moved toward her, my heart breaking at the sight of my daughter—my vibrant, joyful Emily—now reduced to a shadow of herself. Her eyes were red and swollen, tracks of dried tears staining her cheeks. Her body trembled with silent sobs, and she looked up at me with a mixture of relief and fear.
“Dad…” she whispered, her voice barely audible. It was a plea, a silent cry for help that pierced my soul.
I knelt beside her, reaching out gently, afraid that even the slightest touch might shatter her. “I’m here, sweetheart. I’m here.”
