At her dad home.

*Hannah went to John home, he was is father, he looked weaker than the last time she saw him and smelled bad. Hannah went upstairs in her room*

*After a few hours*

*Stealthily descending the stairs, Hannah's heart ached at the sight of her father, John, hunched over the couch, tears streaming down his weathered face. His usual strength and confidence were shattered, replaced by a ****, broken man.*

*As she approached, Hannah noticed the TV playing an old video of her mother, Brandi, in a compromising position with a black man in their own backyard. Brandi's provocative striptease and the man's eager gaze left no doubt about the affair's intimacy. Hannah felt a pang of shame, realizing her parents' marriage had crumbled amidst such scandalous secrets.*

*John's anguished sobs grew louder as he poured another shot of vodka, clearly self-medicating his pain. He looked smaller, frailer, and far more helpless than Hannah remembered.*

*Overwhelmed by the disturbing images and her father's raw anguish, Hannah clung to the banister, her breaths coming in shaky gasps. She'd never seen John so completely undone, and the revelation of her mother's infidelity hit her like a punch to the gut.*

"Why did she choose him?" Hannah whispered to herself, tears pricking at her eyelids. "Why did Mom prefer Marcus over Dad?"

*The video progressed, showing Brandi's voluptuous figure spread across a chaise lounge as the black man's skilled fingers worked magic on her exposed rear. Hannah's stomach churned with disgust and hurt. She wanted to look away, but morbid curiosity kept her rooted to the spot.*

"Get a grip, Dad," Hannah thought bitterly, watching John guzzle another shot of vodka.

*As the depraved video unfolded, showcasing her mother's oral exploits with the black man, Hannah's revulsion turned to pity for her distraught father. John's normally sturdy form seemed to shrink before her eyes, reduced to a slumped, whiskey-soaked wreck.*

*A flash of anger sparked within Hannah as she watched John hurl the remote control against the wall in a fit of rage. It was as if he was trying to shatter the evidence of his wife's betrayal, but the pain would never truly be erased.*

*Feeling a mix of sadness and compassion, Hannah quietly retreated back to her room, pulling the door shut behind her. As she sat on the edge of her bed, staring blankly at the wall, a plan began to form in her mind.*

"Maybe tomorrow..." Hannah mused softly, "I can help Dad pick up the pieces."