“You’re lying.”
His father said nothing.
Just slid the hospital report across the bench.
And Daniel saw the date.
The name.
Elena Morales.
Memories rushed back like a flood.
The night she told him she was pregnant.
The panic.
The fear.
The cowardice.
Running away had felt easier.
Until now.
Daniel sat down slowly.
His voice cracked.
“…Is she healthy?”
“Yes.”
Silence filled the shop.
Then Daniel asked the question that mattered most.
“…Does Elena hate me?”
His father didn’t soften the truth.
“She has every reason to.”
Two weeks later—
There was a knock on Elena’s small apartment door.
She opened it carefully.
And there he was.
Daniel Cruz.
He looked thinner.
Nervous.
Ashamed.
“I know I shouldn’t be here,” he said quietly.
Elena folded her arms.
“You’re right.”
He nodded.
“I just… needed to say I’m sorry.”
From inside the apartment, Isabella started crying.
Daniel’s head turned instantly toward the sound.
His eyes filled with emotion he wasn’t ready for.
Elena watched him carefully.
Then sighed.
Not because she forgave him.
But because she saw something real in his face.
She stepped aside.
“You have five minutes.”
Daniel walked inside slowly.
Like someone entering sacred ground.
He approached the crib.
Looked down.
And everything inside him shattered.
She was tiny.
Perfect.
Real.
His daughter.
When Isabella grabbed his finger with her tiny hand—
Daniel began to cry.
