**Diary Entry**
I still remember the day Dad left. Six-year-old Toby clung to his leg, sobbing. “Daddy, dont go! Please, stay with us! I dont want any more toys or sweets, nothing! Just stay!” His little voice cracked, raw with desperation.
Mum was in the bedroom, too broken to even stand. And fourteen-year-old Oliver stood frozen, fists clenched. Love for his father warred with rage. He wasnt a child anymorehed seen Mum on her knees, begging Dad to wait, just until Toby was older. It hadnt mattered.
“Stop it! Get up! He doesnt care about any of us, so let him go!” Oliver pulled Toby away, his voice trembling.
Dad tried to reason. “Son, its not like that. Ill still visit, still help. I just wont live here anymore. But I love you just the same.”
“Who decided? You decided!” Oliver shot back. “Mum begged you! Were your family! But youre leavingfor some woman! Is she worth more than us?” His throat burned, but he refused to cry.
**Family Games**
If Dad had just hugged him, put his bags down, and said it was all a mistake Oliver wouldve thrown his arms around him. Forgave him instantly. Because this was the man who taught him to fix cars, took him fishing, read him bedtime stories. How could he just erase them?
Toby wailed. Mum sobbed. Dad glanced at them all, then walked out, shoulders hunched. The echo of “Daddy, dont go!” chased him down the street.
**Aftermath**
Life changed. Oliver refused to see Dad, hurling his gifts back. Toby waited by the door, staring out the window. Mum wouldnt let them visit, though Oliver didnt want to. She spat bitterness: “He fell in love. Found something sweeter elsewhere. Were nothing to him now.”
A year later, Dad came back. Apologised. Said hed made a mistake, couldnt live without them. Mum refused him. So did Oliver. The hurt was too fresh. Nobody asked Tobyhe was too young.
**Years Later**
Oliver went into sales. Toby became a doctor. Oliver had a family; Toby cared for Mum until she passed. Before his wedding to childhood sweetheart Emily, Toby suggested a trip. They took the train, sipping tea, chatting.
They got on well, though they were differentOliver, stubborn and sharp-tongued; Toby, gentle-hearted. “Mr. Compassion,” Oliver teased. “Kindness isnt in fashion.”
At the station, Oliver nearly tripped over a homeless manfilthy, legless, bearded. He scoffed. Toby walked ahead until Olivers laughter stopped him.
“Look familiar?” Oliver sneered, pointing. “Green eyes, just like ours. Mum always said she fell for his eyes. What a waste.”
Toby froze. The man looked up, weeping.
Oliver spat venom. “Recognise us, Dad? Bet you didnt expect this. Karmas a bitch, isnt it?”
Toby knelt, touched the mans cheek. “Hello, Dad.”
Dad clutched his hand, sobbing. Oliver raged, but Toby lifted Dad into his arms.
“Put him down!” Oliver snarled. “He deserves this!”
Toby ignored him. “I forgave you long ago. Youre coming home with me.”
People stared. Some shook their heads. Others murmured admiration.
The boy whod once nursed toy animals had grown into a man who still loved his fatherflaws and all.
