“What are you doing?!” he yelled, throwing open the door.

“I have nowhere else to go!” she shouted back.

“Then come inside!” he barked.

“No way!” Zoe retorted. “I’d rather face the storm than be trapped with you!”

Fed up, Frank stomped into the wind, grabbed her backpack, and hauled her inside. “You stay out there, you’ll die!” he bellowed.

“Maybe I don’t care!” Zoe yelled, tears mixing with the rain. “I have nothing left anyway!”

Dragging her to the basement, Frank slammed the door against the storm. Inside, Zoe glared at him but dropped onto the couch in defeat.

“You wanted to talk. Talk,” Frank said, leaning against a shelf.

Zoe pulled out folded papers and handed them to him. “These are emancipation papers. I need your signature.”

Frank blinked. “Why me?”

“Because you’re my grandfather,” she said, her voice laced with anger. “Your wife? Your daughter? Remember them?”

Frank’s face paled. “That’s not possible.”

“It is,” Zoe snapped. “You abandoned them for your stupid dreams of painting. Grandma told me you were selfish, but even she didn’t capture how awful you are.”

Frank’s hands trembled. “I can’t sign this. You’re too young.”

“You’ve done nothing for anyone your whole life. You can’t even do this one thing to help me?” she shot back.

Silence stretched between them as the storm raged. Finally, Frank muttered, “Do you even have a plan?”

“I’m working on it,” Zoe said. “I have a job. I can manage.”

“You’re sixteen. You should be in school,” Frank said quietly.

“Life doesn’t care about what we should do,” Zoe replied.

Hours passed in tense silence. Watching Zoe sketch in her notebook, Frank couldn’t deny her talent. Her bold, creative strokes reminded him of his younger self—but better.

When the storm cleared, Frank handed her the signed papers. “You were right,” he said gruffly. “I was a terrible husband and father. But maybe I can help someone now.”

Zoe stuffed the papers into her bag. “Thanks,” she said softly.

Before she could leave, Frank hesitated. “You can stay here,” he offered. “I can’t fix the past, but I won’t let you face this alone.”

Zoe smirked. “Fine. But I’m taking your art supplies. I’m way better than you.”

Frank shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Stubborn. You get that from me.”