Desperate for Answers
Once Grace was settled in her room, I grabbed my phone and dialed Jordan’s number.
Straight to voicemail.
“Jordan, where are you? What’s going on? Please call me back.”
I left a message, then tried texting him. No response.
Panic set in, so I started calling his friends.
“Mike, it’s Kathryn. Have you heard from Jordan today?”
“Jordan?” Mike sounded puzzled. “No, not since last week. Why?”
“He’s gone,” I said quickly. “His clothes, his laptop—everything’s gone. And he left this strange note, saying he’ll only come back if I fulfill some request.”
There was a long pause. “That doesn’t sound like him at all. Have you tried calling Tom or Steve?”
I called everyone I could think of, but nothing. Finally, shaking, I dialed his parents.
“Kathryn? What’s wrong?” his mother, Linda, answered.
“Is Jordan with you?” I asked, my voice shaky.
“Jordan? No, why?”
I took a deep breath. “He’s gone. I came home, and everything was gone. He left a note, but I don’t even know what he wants.”
“Robert!” Linda called out. “Something’s happened with Jordan.”
Robert took the phone. “Call the police, Kathryn. Right now.”
So, I did.
The Truth I Never Expected
Within thirty minutes, officers arrived. They took my statement, but since there were no signs of foul play, there wasn’t much they could do.
Days passed in a haze of worry—until, on the third day, the doorbell rang.
I rushed to answer, my heart pounding. But instead of Jordan, there was a plain brown package sitting on the welcome mat.
Inside was a DNA test kit and a letter.
Dear Kathryn,
I need to know the truth.
Jordan’s words blurred as I read. He had been looking through old photos and saw one of my best friend—and decided that Grace looked too much like her.
He wondered if Grace was really mine.
My chest tightened. Eight years together, and this was what he thought of me? Of our daughter?
If the test shows she’s mine, I’ll come back. If not, I can’t.
I balled my hands into fists. If he wanted proof, I would give it to him.
Not because he asked, but because I refused to let him plant doubt where none existed.
A Decision Made
The results came a week later. Of course, Jordan was Grace’s father. I’d never doubted it.
But as I held the paper, something clicked in my mind.
Proving him wrong wouldn’t fix what he’d broken.
So, I wrote my own letter.
Dear Jordan,
Here are your precious DNA results. Congratulations. You’re Grace’s biological father. But you know what? That doesn’t matter anymore.
A real father wouldn’t abandon his daughter over a paranoid suspicion. A real husband wouldn’t disappear and leave his family in chaos. A real man wouldn’t demand proof of something that should be undeniable.
We don’t need you.
I don’t want someone who could throw away eight years over a photograph. Grace deserves better than a father who doubts her. And I deserve better than a man who could think so little of me.
Don’t bother coming back. We’re done.
I sent the letter along with the results, then blocked his number, called a lawyer, and filed for divorce.
Later that evening, Grace and I sat at the kitchen table, coloring.
“Mommy, are you sad?” she asked, looking up at me.
I smiled and thought for a moment. “No, sweetie. I’m not sad. Sometimes, the bravest thing we can do is say goodbye.”
And just like that, I knew we were going to be okay.