Chapter 2: The Timestamp
The boy slowly slid down from his father's arms and backed into the corner.
The father took one step forward.
"Sweetheart, listen to me—"
"DON'T." She held up her hand.
"Don't you dare call me that right now."
Her graduation cap was still in her hand.
She gripped it so tight the edge bent.
"The ceremony started at two o'clock, Dad.
TWO O'CLOCK.
I saved you a seat in the front row.
I kept looking back at that door every five minutes thinking — he's just late.
He's coming.
He wouldn't miss this."
Her voice cracked.
"But you were HERE.
Cheering.
Laughing.
Lifting HIM up."
Her stepmother appeared in the kitchen doorway, wiping her hands on a dish towel.
She didn't say a word.
But something in her expression wasn't guilt.
It looked almost like relief.
The father opened his mouth — then closed it again.
And that silence said everything his words couldn't.
Then the girl's phone buzzed.
She looked down.
A photo.
Sent from an unknown number.
Her father — in the stands at the championship game — arm around her stepmother, both of them smiling.
The timestamp on the photo?
11:47 AM.
Two hours before the championship even started.
---
She thought he missed her graduation for the game.
But that photo just revealed something far worse.
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