**Diary Entry**
*Today, I find myself reflecting on an old memoryone that still aches in quiet moments.*
“Dad, please… dont come to school today, okay?”
“Why, Emmeline? Dont you want me to see you get your prize?”
“No, Dad. My classmates and their parents will be there, and you”
“And I what?”
“Youre covered in dust, Dad. You came straight from the construction site again.”
He stood there, frozen. In her hand, she clutched a wilted daisy picked from the roadside.
“Thats right,” he said softly. “I came straight over because I didnt have time to change. I didnt want to miss it.”
“I dont care, Dad! I told you I dont want you there!” she shouted. “Everyone will laugh at me!”
He just shook his head, silent.
“Alright, Emmeline. I wont come.”
She turned away slowly, the flower still in her grip.
Emmeline grew up in a tiny terraced house in Manchester. Her mother had left when she was five. Her father, Thomas Whitmore, worked day and night, rain or shine, just to buy her books, clothesanything she needed.
“Dad, we dont even have a fridge!”
“Never mind, love. Well leave the milk on the windowsillits colder there.”
Years passed. Emmeline won awards, then went off to university in London. Her father gave her his last few pounds.
“Keep yourself fed, love.”
“But Dad, what will you live on?”
“Seeing you make something of yourself is enough for me.”
“Ill come back. I promise. And Ill take you with me,” she said, hugging him.
He smiled then. “No need to drag this old man anywhere, love. Im happy here with my garden.”
Two years later, he still called oftenbut she rarely answered.
“Dad, Im busy. Ive got work, lectures…”
“I understand, love. Just dont forget to eat, alright?”
“Yeah, Dad. Bye!”
One day, he showed up unannounced in the city, bringing her homemade sausage rolls and a Victoria sponge. The concierge stopped him at her building.
“Who are you looking for, sir?”
“My daughterEmmeline Whitmore. Third floor.”
The man smirked. “Miss Whitmore from Diamond Events? Shes at work, sirbig charity gala tonight. Best leave the bag here.”
“No, Id like to see herjust for a moment.”
He walked all the way to the hotel where the event was held. There, Emmeline was coordinating the eveningelegant in a designer dress, surrounded by important people.
Her father hesitated at the edge of the room, ashamed of his worn jacket and dusty boots.
“Miss Whitmore,” he murmured, stepping forward. “Its your dad.”
She turnedand froze.
“Dad?! What are you doing here?”
Everyone looked at him.
“I… brought you some sausage rolls. Made them myself.”
One of her colleagues laughed. “Oh, so this is your father! How charming!”
But Emmeline flushed, her voice icy. “Please leave. You cant be here. This is a private event.”
“Emmeline… its just me.”
“I said go!” she snapped, too embarrassed to even look at him.
He shuffled toward the exit. The pastry bag split open, spilling onto the floor.
“Sorry… didnt mean to embarrass you,” he muttered, picking up the mess before slowly walking out.
A waitress helped him gather the last pieces.
“God, just leave it. I know how it is… my girl doesnt visit either.”
He gave a bitter smile. “They come back, love. When its too late.”
Years passed. Emmeline married, became a marketing director. She told people her parents were dead.
Then one day, her company was invited to a charity event in a small town. The theme: “Ordinary People, Extraordinary Hearts.”
An old man took the stage, his hands rough, his gaze calm.
“My name is Thomas Whitmore. Im no one special, but I know about love. I raised a girl alone. She went far in life, but I still pray for her. Dont even know if shes alive. But if shes listening… Id tell her I love her, even if she forgot me.”
The room fell silent.
Emmelines hands flew to her mouth.
“No… it cant be…”
A reporter approached. “Maam, are you alright?”
“Its… its my father.”
She stood shakily, then ran to the stage.
“Dad!”
He froze, disbelieving.
“Emmie?”
She collapsed into his arms, sobbing. “Im sorry, Dad! Im so sorry I was ashamed of you!”
He stroked her hair. “Love… I forgave you long ago. I was just waiting.”
The press wrote about their story. People cried, reading how a successful woman had rediscovered the father shed once rejected.
Thomas was invited on television, where he simply said:
“You dont need money to love your child. But you do need heart to forgive them when they forget you.”
Years later, Emmeline founded a charity: “A Fathers Heart”for orphaned children and abandoned elders.
At the first gala, she took the stage, tears in her eyes.
“The man who taught me everything good in me never went to schoolbut he gave me the hardest lesson: true love has no shame.”
Then she took her fathers hand from the front row.
“Dad, tonight, youre the guest of honour.”
The crowd rose to their feet.
He smiled, tears in his eyes.
“You know, love… I was never angry. It just hurt. But pain fades. Love doesnt.”
That night, when they were alone, she whispered:
“Dad… would you have loved me the same if I never came back?”
He cupped her face gently.
“My girl… how could I not?”
She looked up at the ceiling, voice breaking.
“How many hearts are waiting tonightsilentlyfor someone wholl never come?”
