Daddy’s Girl：While Mother Showered

Liam

“We’re almost there, I can see the building!” I tugged on my stepfather’s sleeve, my voice a mix of exhaustion and relief as the familiar apartment complex finally came into view.

“Thank God. This trip felt endless.” My mother sighed, shifting her heavy grocery bags from one hand to the other. She shot a look at Liam. “Letting you convince me to take the bus to that discount warehouse was a mistake.”

I suppressed a groan. She’d been complaining since we missed our usual ride home. Liam loved finding deals, and Mom usually humored him, but today her patience was thin. The bus had been late, crowded, and now we were walking the last few blocks.

“Mom, it’s not his fault the bus schedule changed,” I said, pushing my glasses up my nose.

She arched a brow, arms crossed. “Always taking his side, aren’t you, Elara?” I quickly moved to stand slightly behind Liam, my fingers lightly brushing the back of his grey Henley.

“Easy, Elle. Your mom’s just tired,” Liam said, his voice calm. He turned and gave my shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

He was always like this—steady, unflappable. Even when Mom was in one of her moods.

I’d be lying if I said I’d never envied my mother for having him. At thirty-five, as a high school physics teacher, he had this quiet, intellectual handsomeness. He felt like a anchor. He’d entered my life when I was seven, after he married Mom.

He was everything.

When I was eight and kids mocked my homemade lunch, he showed up the next day and quietly explained the physics of a perfect sandwich to the ringleader, stunning him into silence.

When my first crush ended in a painfully awkward rejection, he found me crying in my room. He didn’t give platitudes. He made hot chocolate and talked about stellar nucleosynthesis, how some things need time and the right conditions to become something beautiful.

He never missed a science fair, even when my projects were disastrous.

He’d sit at the kitchen table with me for hours, explaining chemical equations until they finally made sense, his voice never rising in frustration.

And Mom… she was always so drained.

Her job as a paralegal consumed her. She’d come home with a headache, eyes tired behind her glasses. The complaints would start: the attorneys were demanding, the commute was hell, the dinner Liam made was too bland.

It was our normal.

“Finally,” Mom muttered as we reached our building’s entrance foyer. She fumbled with her keys.

Liam took the heaviest bag from her without a word and held the door open for us. The lobby was quiet, lit by soft fluorescent lights.

“My feet are killing me,” Mom announced, heading straight for the elevator. “I’m going up. You two bring the rest?”

“We’ve got it,” Liam said easily.

She gave a curt nod and stepped into the elevator, the doors sighing shut behind her.

I bent to pick up a fallen bag. Liam was already there, our hands brushing. A simple static shock jumped between our fingers.

“Oops,” he said with a soft chuckle, straightening up. “Built up some potential energy walking here.”

I smiled, my heart doing a funny little skip. “Guess we should discharge it safely.”

He looked at me, a warm glint in his eye. “Always the diligent student.”