Azalea Rose Willow loves three things above everything else:
summer, the only season that mattered in her mind.
singing, alongside the comforting embrace of her guitar.
but above all, the easy camaraderie with the boy who lives next door to her, and...
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Tomas arrived home late at night from his academy dinner party, planning to head straight to bed after the long day he'd had.
As he went up the stairs to his room, he saw from the corridor that Azaleas light was still on through the creak of her door.
He took a deep breath, and decided to speak with her. He knocked on Azaleas door, hoping she would answer.
"Hey Flor, I was hoping we could talk."
The silence on the other side of the door stretched, a heavy weight settling in Tomás's gut.
"Listen kid, I know I haven't been behaving as best as a dad should have lately. It's hard to be a dad in this world, when all I want to do is protect you from everything in this world. You're not just a kid anymore, Azalea. You're becoming a strong, independent woman, and I need to learn to let go a little." he confessed, his voice thick with regret. After getting no reply, he continued.
"I understand if you wanna keep giving me the silent treatment, I deserve it." He hesitated, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on him. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry, Flor. I only want what's best for you, even if sometimes I push a bit too hard."
"I wish I could tell you everything, but it's not just my story to tell anymore. But I'm glad you're back to being friends with Finnick, hopefully one day it will all make sense to you."
He shifted his weight, the silence stretching into an eternity.
"I hoped this long and heartfelt speech would make you open the door already, it's okay. But I just wanted to give you a little something back." On his right hand, he was holding and object he knew Azalea loved the most in this world, her guitar. A lump formed in his throat as he placed it carefully against the door. His heart ached for his daughter.
"I came back from the dinner, and learnt that you got the highest rankings in the academy this year for the female section. You deserve your guitar back for all you've accomplished. I'm incredibly proud of you."
The silence after placing the guitar case was deafening. Tomás lingered by the door, his heart a tangled mess of hope, regret, and a burgeoning fear. He strained his ears, the house creaking in the stillness. No movement, no muffled sobs, not even the telltale creak of the floorboards that would signify Azalea approaching the door.
"Azalea?" he called out again, his voice laced with a tremor of growing unease.
He waited, the seconds stretching into an agonizing eternity. Still, no response. He reached out, his hand hovering over the doorknob, the polished brass suddenly feeling icy cold. Hesitantly, he pushed the door ajar, the hinges groaning softly. His blood ran cold.
