You didn't lose me all at once.
You traded me slowly.

First came her name in every conversation,
the forgotten plans,
the birthdays squeezed between your new life and your old one.
Then the forgotten birthday... just last week.

I watched you become a better husband
while forgetting how to be my father.

And maybe she never asked you to leave me behind,
but you did anyway.

You built a new home and somehow there was no room for your daughter in it.
No seat saved for me at the table.
No pictures of me on the walls.
No space for the child who loved you first.

The hardest part is knowing you are capable of love.
I see it in the way you show up for her.
The patience.
The effort.
The attention I begged for in smaller, quieter ways.

I keep wondering what was so wrong with me
that loving her meant forgetting me.

A daughter should never have to compete with a wife for her father's heart.
But I did.
And I lost.

Now I grieve someone who is still alive,
someone who chose another life and called it happiness
without noticing what it destroyed behind him.

You abandoned me so gently
the world barely noticed.

But daughters notice.
We notice every unanswered text,
every canceled visit,
every moment we stopped being your priority.

And even now, after all this hurt,
a part of me still hopes you'll remember
that before she was your wife,

I was your little girl.

Your little Princess,

Kaily

Penned by my hand on Gosday, the 6th of Sapiarch, in the year 19 AC.