Dad thought I didn't notice.

But I did.

It was the way he lingered on old photos of Mom, the way his eyes softened when he saw happy couples holding hands in the park, the way he sighed at night, staring into his coffee like it could tell him what to do next.

He was lonely.

And since he wouldn't do anything about it, I would.

So, I took matters into my own hands.

With my special ring, an old bottle cap I had bent into a perfect little circle, I had a plan.

Every time we went somewhere, I found the prettiest woman in the room and proposed. Now, I'm fourteen, so most of them thought it was adorable.

"Will you marry my dad?" I'd ask, dropping to one knee with a grin.

Most of them laughed loudly. Some crouched down and humored me.

"Oh? And what makes your dad so special, little boy?"

"His name is Leo, and he's kind, funny, and really smart. He takes the best care of me. He's generous beyond anything. And he makes the best lasagna. Oh, and he always keeps his promises, especially if they involve ice cream."

That usually got a smile, until the next question, which is where I lost a lot of them.

"And what does your wonder-dad do?"

"He's a driver!" I'd say proudly.

And that's when things would change immediately. Of course, they'd assume that he was a fancy businessman, a lawyer, or even a doctor.

But the moment they heard that he was a driver, their smiles faded. Their enthusiasm drained like a popped balloon. Some nodded politely and walked away. Others forced an awkward laugh before disappearing.

What I didn't tell them was that my dad owned a driving company. But he still drives. He loves it. He says it keeps him grounded, so he takes on shifts during the week in between all the admin. So, yeah, technically, he's a driver.

But one woman, the worst one of them all, scoffed right in my face. I thought that she would have been perfect with her red hair. It looked like she had fire shining brightly on her head. But it turned out that she was... not so nice.

"A driver? Little boy, you think he's good enough for me?" she sneered, rolling her eyes at my dad's picture. "Try again, kiddo. I'm sure there's someone out there who's keen to meet your father. I'm not one of them."

Then she walked away, further into the library, like I was nothing. Like he was nothing.

That's when I knew.

She definitely wasn't the one.

That night, I sat across from my dad, the best man I knew, as he stirred his soup absentmindedly.

He was quiet, the way he always got when he thought no one was paying attention. His wedding band was still on his finger.

I tapped my spoon against the table.