Sairah is eating cookie dough ice cream from the tub, on the kitchen dining table.

"Sairah? What are you doing?"

"Dad? It is three a.m, why are you still up?"

"I needed some water."

"Right."

"Why are you up?"

"I wanted some ice cream."

"Oh right."

He awkwardly nodded but didn't make a move for the sink or a glass, instead he grabbed a spoon and sat opposite Sairah. 

"You shouldn't be having ice cream this late."

The air felt thick with tension, she hesitantly moved the tub closer to him, there was enough distance apart but yet she felt suffocated.

"It is actually quite early."

"Have you slept?"

"Truthfully Dad? No I have not."

"You should sleep Sairah-"

"Don't, don't start acting like a father now. You do not have the right to advise me or even talk-"

"I am sorry."

Her spoon which was half way to her lips, fell onto the table but neither seemed to notice.

"Sairah, I am sorry. I am sorry for not protecting you."

"..."

"I am sorry for leaving you all alone when your Mother died, I am sorry for leaving you with him, I am sorry for making you believe that you were the blame-"

"Stop it."

Jumping off her seat at if it burned her, she backed away from him. He shot up from his seat, he reached out to grab her hand but she jumped even further away from him.

"Sairah, please, I am sorry-"

She ran, her legs moved one after another, away from him, away from this, away from her self.