Chapter 79: The Fragile Bridge

The morning sunlight filtered through the large windows of the estate, casting a warm glow over the living room. The air was thick with the soft hum of my sisters' chatter, the clinking of dishes from the dining room, and the ever-present warmth of Mama's embrace. As always, I sat curled up beside her, my tiny fingers gripping the fabric of her dress while she gently stroked my hair. Her presence was my safety, my shield from the world.

But something was different today.

Even as I nestled into her warmth, my eyes kept flickering toward him—my father. He sat on the far side of the room, his posture careful, his movements measured, as if afraid of making a wrong step. I could feel his eyes on me sometimes, hesitant yet hopeful. He wasn't forcing himself into my space, and yet… I still felt uneasy.

I wasn't sure why, but something about last night stayed with me. The puzzle. The way we worked on it together. The quiet way he had praised me without expecting anything in return. It was… different. Not like before, when I would tense up the moment he came near, my heart racing with fear and confusion.

Today, something was stirring inside me. Something unfamiliar.

"Do you want to go outside, sweetheart?" Mama's voice was soft, gentle, pulling me away from my thoughts. Her fingers ran through my messy hair, smoothing it down as she gazed at me with those warm eyes that always made me feel safe.

I shook my head lightly. I didn't want to go anywhere right now. My heart felt too heavy, my mind too tangled.

I wanted to understand what I was feeling first.

That was when I noticed it.

Father had taken out his laptop, the sleek black device balanced on his lap as he typed away with practiced ease. At first, I ignored it. But then, the faint glow of the screen caught my eye, displaying strings of numbers, symbols, and complex patterns I had never seen before. I blinked, curiosity pulling at me despite myself.

What was he doing?

I shifted slightly in Mama's lap, just enough to get a better look. My sisters noticed, of course. They always noticed.

Sophia, who sat nearby, gave me a small smile. "He's coding, little one," she said softly, as if reading my mind.

Coding?

I had heard of it before. Emily had tried to explain it once when she was working in her lab, but it had seemed too complicated at the time. Now, watching my father work, I felt that same curiosity bubbling up again.

He must have sensed it, because his fingers slowed on the keyboard. He glanced up—not at me, but at the screen—and began speaking, his voice steady and calm.

"This is a security algorithm," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "It works by encrypting sensitive data, making sure only authorized users can access it."

I didn't know why, but I didn't want him to stop.

My grip on Mama's dress loosened slightly. The warmth of her arms remained, grounding me, but my eyes stayed fixed on the screen. He wasn't looking at me, wasn't expecting me to say anything or come closer. He was just… explaining.

"Each line of code serves a purpose," he continued, fingers tapping gently against the keys. "Some control the flow of information. Others set up barriers to keep things safe. Every piece has to fit perfectly, or it won't work."

Something about the way he spoke reminded me of the puzzle from last night.

I swallowed, my small hands curling into fists against Mama's lap. Then, without fully understanding why, I shifted again—this time leaning just slightly forward.

A hush fell over the room.

I could feel my sisters watching, could hear the way their conversation had suddenly stilled. Mama's hand on my back remained steady, warm, reassuring. She wasn't pushing me. No one was.

I hesitated, then softly murmured, "What happens… if the pieces don't fit?"

The words had barely left my lips when I realized what I had done.

I had spoken to him first.

My heart pounded in my chest, my breath catching as I waited for his reaction. For a moment, he didn't move, as if afraid to startle me. Then, slowly, he turned his head—not fully, just enough that I could see the soft expression in his eyes.

He didn't smile. He didn't exclaim in surprise. He simply nodded, his voice gentle.

"If the pieces don't fit…" he said thoughtfully, "we go back and try again. Step by step, until we get it right."

Something inside me shifted.

I wasn't sure what it was, but I didn't look away this time. I stayed where I was, watching, listening.

My father turned back to his screen, as if giving me the choice to stay or retreat. But I didn't move away. Not yet.

Instead, I simply sat there, eyes fixed on the glowing screen, as he continued working.

The bridge between us was still fragile. Still unsteady.

But for the first time, it didn't feel so impossible to cross.