When a disabled girl falls behind and doesn’t have a prom date, her father surprises her by taking her to the event. Their lives are changed by the prize he receives the following day as a token of appreciation for his love for his child.
“Look, Molly! Someone during the burial told the 17-year-old girl who was grieving over her mother Daisy’s coffin, “Your dad’s here!”
Molly’s mother and her father, Danny, had separated eleven years prior. Molly has only heard bad things about her father ever then, such as that he was a “drunkard.”
Just for illustration’s sake | Source: Pexels
Despite her lack of animosity against Danny, Molly frequently missed their relationship as father and daughter. However, Molly’s situation was about to alter following her mother’s death.
“Hey, my love!” Before putting a wreath on his ex-wife’s coffin, Danny greeted and hugged his daughter.
Is that your truck, sir? Half of the parking is blocked by it. Would you mind relocating it? Danny, a truck driver, was questioned by a visitor.
That’s my truck, yes. Give me a moment. I recently got to know my daughter. I hope you get it. Many thanks!
A package? Who sent it? He pondered. It had a card that said, “For Dad of the Year.”
But why, father? I’m unable to leave the house. I lived here with Mom. It contains all of our memories.
Just for illustration’s sake | Source: Pexels
Danny refused to listen, so Molly scowled. Given that his daughter frequently used a wheelchair when she didn’t use crutches, he realized he couldn’t leave her alone. Molly limped because of an underlying problem that had started in her left leg when she was six years old.
Molly moved in with her father two days later. The house was small and messy, but it was cozy and gave her a sense of belonging and affection.
As the days went by, Danny found it harder to do things for Molly. He never witnessed her growing up, thus he was unable to handle most tasks, such as braiding her hair. He watched tutorials on the internet to understand how to accomplish it. However, it was not all.
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