Chapter 7: Truths and Tears

I don’t know how long I slept, but the next thing I heard was arguing. My eyes blinked open, and I saw Mom standing by the window, city lights flickering behind her. The room was dim, like the end of a long movie.

“Nathan, I told you, Maddie is not your daughter.”

Under the dim lights, Mom looked so thin and tired, her arms crossed tight over her chest.

“If she’s not my daughter, why did she run up to me and call me Daddy?” Nathan’s voice was sharp, but there was something broken underneath. “She said she’s four. If she’s not my daughter, then you must have cheated on me back then. Sarah, tell me, who’s the other guy?”

His jaw clenched, and he stared at the floor, fists balled up at his sides. Mom’s hands shook on her purse strap, knuckles white. I could see the tears she was trying not to let fall. Even as a kid, I could tell she was scared—of the answer, of everything.

“What’s the point of saying this now?” Mom sounded so tired. “It’s all in the past, Nathan. She’s not your child. I’m taking my daughter home now.”

“You say she isn’t, so she isn’t? I took her for a paternity test this afternoon. When the results come out, we’ll know who’s lying.”

Mom trembled, lips pressed tight. For a second, I thought she might fall apart right there.

“Mom.” I called softly.

She finally looked at me, rushing over and pulling me into her arms. Her eyes were red and wet. “You scared me so much.”

I pressed my face to hers and whispered, “Mom, I’m sorry.”

She kissed my cheeks, her voice thick. “Sorry, it’s my work problem. I didn’t watch you well.”

Her tears smeared on my face, warm and salty. I hugged her tighter, wishing I could fix everything with just my arms.

Nathan’s voice cut in, trying to sound cold: “What, you two are so close, what am I, the villain?”

I looked over. He crossed his arms, jaw clenched, but there was worry in his eyes, like he was waiting for the worst news ever.

I asked Mom, “How did you ever like someone so grumpy?”

Neither answered. The silence stretched.

“Maddie, let’s go home.” Mom picked me up, her hands still shaking.

Nathan reached out, voice gruff but hands gentle. “Let me carry you. I don’t know how you’ve been living these years. The kid’s so sturdy, and you’re so thin. Aren’t you afraid you’ll hurt your back?”

He said it like a joke, but he held me close, careful as if I might slip away. I pressed my face into his neck, feeling the steady thump of his heart.

“Dad, I’m not fat.”

He weighed me in his arms, snorting. “All your family’s food must go to you, huh?”

I stuck my tongue out at him, but only Mom saw. She almost smiled, but sadness pulled at her mouth.

Mom followed silently, her eyes flickering between me and Dad, her face full of worry and hope.

In the elevator, Dad finally asked, “Sarah, back then you broke up and left without a word. Why?”

Mom lowered her head, lips pressed together.

“If you really didn’t care about me, why did you have my kid?”

The elevator hummed as it dropped. I squeezed Dad’s neck tight, pressing my ear to his shoulder, wishing I could see the comments again—just to know if we’d all make it home together.