Ivy pushed open the door quietly. Her father, Franklin, sat in his recliner with his eyes closed.

He stirred when he heard the creak of the door. Ivy stepped inside and stood behind him.

“Dad,” she said softly.

Ivy couldn’t bring herself to look her father in the eyes. How could she? She had hurt him deeply, and a part of her believed he would never forgive her.

Franklin suddenly stood and asked quietly, “How are you doing?”

“I’m… not good,” Ivy said, eyes ...