The laughter lingered in the small estate long after it faded, clinging to the walls like warmth after a hearth fire.
Zeff still sat slumped in the chair, dignity in ruins, staring blankly at nothing while Yuri struggled to breathe through her giggles and Miri shook her head with a fond, exhausted smile.
Even the baby girl—his daughter—let out a soft, delighted squeal, clapping her tiny hands as if she had personally orchestrated her father's humiliation.
And somehow… that was what finally broke him.
Zeff looked down at his daughter.
Really looked at her.
She wasn't afraid anymore.
She wasn't crying.
She was laughing.
At him.
A slow, stunned expression crossed his face. "She's… laughing."
"Yes," Miri said gently. "Children do that."
"At… me."
"Frequently," Yuri added.
For a long moment, Zeff didn't move.
Then, awkwardly—painfully—he tried again.
Not a smile, not a grin, but something softer.
