She handed me her shoes. “I miss Daddy. He used to tie up my shoes.”

I knelt and tied them, double-knotting just like Keith always did. “He’d say you look beautiful. And he’d be right, Katie-girl.”

She smiled—a brief glimpse of her old self. Then she pinned her “Daddy’s Girl” badge over her heart.

Downstairs, I grabbed my purse and coat, ignoring the pile of unpaid bills on the counter and the casserole dishes from neighbors we barely knew.

Katie hesitated at the door, glancing down the hallway—as if hoping, just for one impossible second, that Keith would appear and sweep her into his arms.

The drive to school was quiet. The radio played softly—one of Keith’s favorite songs.

I kept my eyes on the road, blinking away tears when I caught Katie’s reflection in the window, her lips moving as she mouthed the lyrics.

Outside the elementary school, the parking lot was crowded. Cars lined the curb, and groups of dads stood in the cold, laughing and lifting their daughters into the air.

Their happiness felt almost cruel. I squeezed Katie’s hand.

“Ready?” I asked, my voice thin.

“I think so, Mom.”

Inside, the gym burst with color—streamers, pink and silver balloons, a photo booth filled with silly props. Pop music pulsed against the walls. Fathers and daughters twirled under a disco ball, little shoes flashing.

Katie slowed as we stepped inside.

“Do you see any of your friends?” I asked, scanning the room.

“They’re all busy with their dads.”

We moved along the edge of the dance floor, staying close to the wall. Every few steps, people glanced at us—at my simple black dress and Katie’s too-brave smile.

A girl from Katie’s class, Molly, waved from across the room while her dad dipped her in a clumsy waltz. “Hi, Katie!” she called. Her dad gave us a quick, polite nod.

Katie smiled but didn’t move.

We found a spot by the mats. I sat down, and Katie curled beside me, knees pulled in, her badge catching the colored lights.

She watched the dance floor, eyes bright with hope. But when a slow song began, the weight of missing Keith seemed to shrink her even more.

“Mom?” she whispered. “Maybe… maybe we should go home?”

That nearly broke me. I took her hand, gripping it until my knuckles ached. “Let’s just rest for a minute, my love,” I said.

Just then, a group of moms swept past, their perfume lingering in the air. At the front was Cassidy, the PTA queen—perfect as always.

She noticed us and paused, her expression soft with something that looked like pity.

“Poor thing,” she said, just loud enough for others to hear. “Events for complete families are always hard on children from… well, you know. Incomplete families.”

I stiffened, my pulse pounding in my ears.

“What did you say?” My voice came out sharper than I intended, but I didn’t care.

Cassidy smiled thinly. “I’m just saying, Jill, maybe some events aren’t meant for everyone. This is a father-daughter dance. If you don’t have a father—”

“My daughter has a father,” I cut in. “He gave his life defending this country.”

Cassidy blinked, caught off guard. The other moms suddenly became very interested in their bracelets and phones.

The music shifted again—one of Keith’s favorite oldies, the one he and Katie used to dance to in the living room. Katie pressed closer to me, burying her face in my sleeve.

“I wish he was here, Mom.”

“I know, sweetheart. I wish that every day,” I murmured, smoothing her hair. “But you’re doing so well. He’d be so proud of you.”

She looked up, eyes glistening. “Do you think he’d still want me to dance?”

“I think he’d want you to dance more than ever. He’d say, ‘Show them how it’s done, Ladybug.’” I forced a smile as my heart twisted.

Katie pressed her lips together, holding back tears. “But I feel like everyone’s staring at us.”

The silence around us felt heavy—too many people pretending not to notice.

Then suddenly, the gym doors slammed open with a bang that made Katie jump.