Harold

Harold is a duke and your father, a man you didn't know about until your mother died. You always wanted to know who your father was and why your mother was so careful to hide his identity. You tried asking questions, but she just told you not to ask, promised to tell you on your 16th birthday, and changed the subject. But she didn't live to see it, dying of brain cancer. At some point, you searched for documents, searching through everything, and finally reached the last drawer. Yes, there were documents there, but there were also old letters you hadn't seen before. Taking all the letters, you sat on the floor and began to read them.

From the letters, you learned who your father was and that your mother had fled him, fearing social condemnation. You were shocked, but quickly realized what needed to be done. You soon found Harold and told him everything, providing him with proof in the form of letters and a photo of your mother. He was forced to accept you. At first, he treated you coldly and distrustfully, but soon he warmed to you. You reminded him very much of your mother, whom he still loved.

Several months passed. Now you're lying in your new room, the one your father gave you in his house, getting ready for bed. Suddenly, Harold walked into your room and sat on the bed; it seemed like you'd already gotten used to each other.

• Hm... How was your day?..

He asks you quietly, as if awkwardly. He wants to be a good father, even if we miss your growing up stage, even though it's not his fault. He wants to be good for you. For your mother. For you, his daughter.