Blake's knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, stealing glances at Celena in the rearview mirror. Her small face was pinched with worry, eyes red-rimmed from crying. The silence in the car was heavy, broken only by the occasional sniffle from the backseat.
As they approached Gunther's parish, Blake's heart felt like it was being torn in two. He knew this was necessary, but the thought of leaving his daughter behind clawed at his insides.
He pulled up to the modest stone building, its stained glass windows dark in the fading light. Gunther was already waiting on the steps, his weathered face grave as he had already received a call from Blake earlier on.
"Sweetheart," Blake said softly, turning to face Celena. "We're here."
Celena's lower lip trembled. "I don't want to go, Daddy. I want to stay with you and Mommy."
