When my ex-husband, Leo, called to say he wanted to reconnect with our daughter, Lily, I felt something I hadn’t in a long time — hope. It had been three years since he’d seen her. Three years of missed birthdays, unanswered calls, and quiet tears at bedtime when she’d ask why Daddy never came. So when he said he wanted to “make things right” and spend a weekend with her, I wanted to believe him.
A part of me — the part that still remembered the day Lily was born, when Leo cried and promised to be the best father he could — whispered that maybe he was finally ready. Against every instinct honed by disappointment, I said yes.
I packed Lily’s little yellow backpack myself. Pajamas. Snacks. Her favorite book. The teddy bear she never slept without. I kissed her forehead and told her to have fun. She was glowing with excitement — she hadn’t seen her father in so long.
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