Marie's POV
"Marie!" he said, coming closer toward me.
Before I could say a word, he pulled me into a tight hug. I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him back. My father just stood there staring at us. I reached out and pulled him into a hug. The three of us remained that way, holding onto each other.
"Let me look at you," my father said, pulling back slightly to study me. "You've changed, but—" his voice broke, "you're still my daughter."
I laughed weakly, though my eyes were already stinging. "And you're still terrible at hiding your emotions," I whispered.
He grinned, wiping the tears on his face quickly. "Someone in this family has to show them. Both of you hold on to so much pain, and you're young." He stared from me to Dante.
My father didn't look bad, but he didn't look as great as I knew him. His beard was unshaven, and he just wore a dark suit jacket over a faded black t-shirt. His eyes looked tired and saggy.
Dante, on the other hand, was just like himself.
