​I am 22 years old, but inside me lives a little girl. She is a girl who loves to play, who laughs loudly, and who speaks with a high-spirited voice. She is always longing for affection. She cries easily over the smallest things; she is so easy to make cry and just as easy to make smile. Her heart can be won over with a tiny gift or just a few kind words. She is the same person she was as a child—she hasn't changed at all. She loves her parents deeply and cannot imagine life without them. ​But... ​Life has pulled them away from her. She lives like a stranger with her father—the same father she used to run to for a hug and whose voice used to fill her with joy. When he sees her and pretends not to, she feels as if something inside her is breaking. She wants to burst into tears and pour out all her grievances against him, but... ​Silence. ​She cannot say a single word. Nothing comes out of her mouth. She simply pretends that none of this is happening. This is how she is growing up. Eventually, she got married. She used to be so afraid of what the father of her children would be like. Then someone came into her life—someone so kind, with a pure heart, who loves his children and his wife dearly. He always brings the best things for his children and wants only the best for them. He stands before them like a mountain. If you lean your head on his shoulder, your pain seems to vanish. The love in his silence is stronger than a thousand sweet words. ​Watching them, she says to herself: "So, this is what a father's love feels like." And deep down, she rejoices. Even though she never tasted this love herself, she is happy that her children are being nourished by it. ​Yet, there is a deep void inside her that she doesn't know how to fill... and that void is a father's love. Sometimes, as I watch my husband embrace our children, I close my eyes and imagine for a fleeting second that I am the one being held. I realized that while I am busy healing my children's world with the love I never had, I am also slowly learning to be my own father—to comfort that little girl inside me who is still waiting by the door.