Friends like Sarah would occasionally send me updates, stories of Lucas partying, drinking, and acting like he was back in college—free from responsibility, detached from the daughter he left behind. Every message only hardened my resolve. I had moved on. I had Judy. And I had a vision for a better life.
Right after he walked out, I dusted off a dream I had shelved long ago. I found work as an analyst, and slowly began building something of my own. Eventually, I opened a cozy little café—warm, inviting, with mismatched chairs, local artwork, and cinnamon rolls that became a neighborhood favorite. My parents helped in the early days, and Judy grew up among the tables, charming customers with her giggles and her sticky fingers.
Then, one crisp autumn afternoon—just over two years after he vanished—the bell above the café door jingled.
I glanced up from the pastry display… and froze.
It was him.
Lucas looked thinner, worn down, and not quite the man I remembered. His expression flickered with recognition and hesitation. “Amanda?” he said.
I kept my voice steady. “Lucas. Coffee?”
He scanned the café—its inviting decor, the happy hum of conversation—and then turned to me with a smirk that hadn’t aged well. “So… you’re a barista now?”
I let a pause hang in the air, then replied simply, “Actually, I own this place.”
The smirk vanished.
“Oh,” he muttered. “I didn’t know.”
“No reason you would,” I said, calmly. “You haven’t exactly kept in touch.”
He shifted awkwardly. “Madison and I… didn’t work out,” he admitted. “Lately I’ve been thinking. About us. About everything. I was an idiot.”
“You were more than that,” I said. “You were absent. And now, suddenly, you want to see Judy?”
“I’ve changed,” he insisted. “I get it now. What really matters.”
I didn’t respond right away. Instead, I motioned toward the corner booth. Sitting there was Daniel—his gentle voice rising and falling as he read a picture book to Judy, who clung to every word, giggling at the voices he created.
“That’s Daniel,” I said. “He’s been reading to her every night. He’s there when she’s sick, when she’s happy, when she needs someone.”
Lucas stared, speechless.
“You’re with him?” he finally asked.
“For a while now,” I replied. “Not everyone sees parenthood as a burden.”
I looked him in the eye. “You once told me I was boring. That I wasn’t fun anymore because I was tired—because I was taking care of our child. You left for someone who made you feel ‘alive.’”
His face flushed with guilt. “I was going through something.”
“We all go through something, Lucas,” I said softly. “The difference is, some of us stay. Some of us show up even when it’s hard.”
He opened his mouth, searching for something to say. Nothing came.
A regular customer stepped up to the counter, and I turned to greet them, my heart steady. When I looked back, Lucas was gone.
Daniel caught my eye and raised an eyebrow, silently asking if everything was okay.
I smiled. Everything was more than okay.
Lucas had been a chapter in my life. One that taught me hard lessons—but one I had closed a long time ago. If he ever truly wanted to step up for Judy, he knew how to find us. But deep down, I knew better than to wait.
Because the life I had now? It was built on love, not on regrets. And I had no intention of going backward.