“Mike, take a DNA test. But be prepared for it to be negative. And then what?”
“Then we move on.”
Mike pulled his hands away.
“But if it’s positive?”
“It won’t be,” Stephanie said quickly. “It can’t be.”
“Why are you so sure?”
“Because I know you. You would never have walked away from your own child if you knew she existed.”
The next morning, Mike cleared his schedule and drove to the address in Hope’s letter. Maple Street was in a quiet, working-class suburb. Modest, but well-kept.
Number 12 was a small brick apartment building. Mike climbed to the third floor and found Apartment 35. Daisy opened the door almost immediately, as if she’d been waiting by the peephole.
“Mr. Sterling!” she beamed. “Mom, he’s here!”
A weak voice came from the back of the apartment:
“Daisy, show him in.”
The apartment was small but tidy. Crayon drawings on the walls, bookshelves filled with paperbacks, a few framed photos. And the unmistakable clinical smell of medicine. Hope was sitting in an armchair by the window, wrapped in a thick cardigan. Eight years had changed her. Her hair was gone, replaced by a soft headscarf, and her face was thin and pale.
But when she saw Mike, her eyes lit up with a spark of the woman he remembered.
“Hi, Mike,” she said softly.
“Hi, Hope.”
They looked at each other across a canyon of eight years filled with silence and misunderstanding.
“Thank you for coming,” she said. “I wasn’t sure you would.”
“I read your letter. Hope… is it true? Is Daisy really… mine?”
“Yes.”
Mike sat on the edge of the sofa.
“Why didn’t you tell me back then?”
“Because you made it clear you never wanted to see me again. And you were with Stephanie.”
“I was with Stephanie because I thought you’d cheated on me.”
Hope gave a sad, tired smile.
“And I thought you’d dumped me for her. We were both played, Mike.”
“Hope, those emails, the photos…”
“What emails?”
“The ones with David. Stephanie said she found them in your bag.”
Hope looked at him with genuine confusion.
“Mike, I don’t know any David. I never wrote any emails to anyone but you and my boss. But Stephanie had proof…”
“What proof? Mike, the day you broke up with me, you just said it was over. You didn’t explain, you didn’t let me speak. I’ve spent eight years wondering what I did wrong.”
Mike felt a cold realization settle in his stomach. The “proof” had never been shown to Hope. It had only been shown to him.
“I have to go,” he said, standing up abruptly. “Hope, I need to look into some things, but I’ll be back. I promise.”
Daisy caught him at the door.
“Are you really my dad?”
Mike knelt down and looked into those familiar brown eyes.
“I don’t know for sure yet, but we’re going to find out.”
“And if you are, will you love me?”
Mike’s heart ached.
“If I am, I will love you more than anything in this world.”
The girl hugged him, and for the first time in years, Mike felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be. But first, he had to settle the score.
“Where were you all night?” Stephanie demanded when Mike walked into the house at 6:30 AM.
He had spent the night in his car near Hope’s apartment, thinking. Every memory of their breakup now felt tainted. Every “coincidence” felt manufactured.
“I was with Hope,” he said flatly.
“And? Did she admit she was lying?”
“Actually, I’m starting to think I was the one being lied to.”
Stephanie stiffened.
“What does that mean?”
“She says she never knew a David. She says she had no idea why I broke up with her.”
“Of course she’d say that! She’s trying to rewrite history now that she needs your money.”
“Stephanie, I have a simple question. Can you show me those emails?”
“What emails?”
Comments are closed.