The booth was too quiet.
Not peaceful quiet.
The other kind.
The kind where everyone was sitting together, but nobody wanted to be the first person to say what they were actually thinking.
The older kid stared out the window.
The younger one pushed a straw wrapper back and forth across the table.
Their father looked between them.
“Okay,” he said.
Nothing.
He leaned back.
“Great meeting.”
The younger one almost smiled.
The older one caught it.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You were about to.”
“I was about to drink my coffee.”
“You don’t even have coffee.”
He looked down at the empty space in front of him.
A beat.
“Then this day is already worse than I thought.”
The younger one laughed.
The older one tried not to.
That was enough.
Not much.
But enough.
He let the silence settle again.
“I know you’re mad.”
The older kid finally looked at him.
“We’re always moving.”
He didn’t answer right away.
Around them, the café kept going.
A plate hit another table.
Someone near the counter laughed too loudly.
A muted screen above the register flashed through some distant piece of breaking news.
None of it reached their booth.
“I know,” he said.
“No. You keep saying that.”
“I do know.”
“Then stop.”
That one landed.
The younger kid stopped playing with the wrapper.
Their father looked down at the table.
Not because he didn’t have an answer.
Because he had too many.
“I’m trying to keep you safe.”
The older kid folded their arms.
“From what?”
He looked at them.
There it was.
The question he never answered properly.
The question that followed them from place to place.
He wanted to tell them everything.
He wanted to tell them nothing.
Instead, he reached across the table and stole one of the younger kid’s fries.
“Hey.”
“Emergency.”
“That was mine.”
“I’m under a lot of pressure.”
“You took the biggest one.”
“I make difficult decisions.”
The younger kid dragged the plate closer.
The older one turned toward the window again—
but this time they were smiling.
Barely.
He noticed.
He was smart enough not to say anything about it.
“I love you,” he said.
The smile faded, but not in a bad way.
His voice stayed easy.
His eyes didn’t.
“I know this doesn’t always make sense.”
Neither kid answered.
“I know you’re tired.”
That got him a glance.
“And I know saying I’m trying doesn’t magically make it less annoying.”
A pause.
“But I am.”
The younger kid leaned against him first.
The older one held out for another few seconds.
Then they did too.
He wrapped an arm around both of them.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Above the counter, the silent news broadcast changed again.
Something strange.
Something important.
Something that would matter later.
He never looked up.