“I’m fine.”
“And Grace?”
I closed my eyes.
Two years.
Two birthdays had passed. Two years of hospital appointments, sleepless nights, childhood illnesses, and milestones he had never witnessed.
Now he wanted to know how she was.
“She is fine,” I replied.
“Amara, I’ve been thinking about her.”
I almost laughed.
“Have you?”
“Yes. I know I haven’t been there for her. I know I made mistakes.”
“Mistakes?”
“I was wrong.”
For a brief moment, the old pain returned. I remembered the pregnancy test, the unanswered calls, and the photograph of him smiling beside Vanessa.
Then I remembered the nights I had spent holding Grace alone.
“What do you want, Daniel?”
He hesitated.
“I want to see my daughter.”
“Why now?”
“Because she’s my child.”
“She was your child when I told you I was pregnant.”
“I know.”
“She was your child when I went to the hospital alone.”
“I know, Amara.”
