Trent’s world unravels when he finds a cryptic note in his nine-year-old daughter’s backpack: “I’m your real dad, come and see me.” Suspicion gnaws at him, but nothing prepares him for the shocking truth he uncovers.
I stood at the kitchen sink, staring at the half-full coffee mug in my hand.
The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the quiet street outside.
Mornings like this used to mean something to me — peace, warmth, the simple comfort of knowing Lily was just upstairs, getting ready for school. But lately, things felt different.
I set the mug down with a sigh, listening to the faint sound of Lily’s footsteps from above.
She used to charge down the stairs, her hair a mess, talking a mile a minute about her dreams or whatever happened at school the day before.
Now? Now, she dragged her feet, barely speaking, like there was a weight on her shoulders.
Something was wrong, and it worried me.
“Lily,” I called, hoping for some kind of response that would ease the tension. “You want pancakes?
I can make some before you go.”
“Not hungry,” she muttered from the top of the stairs, her voice as flat as it had been for weeks.
I winced. She hadn’t sounded like that before: so sharp, so cold. It wasn’t like her at all.
Drying my hands, I turned to face her as she came down.
“Hey, kiddo, what’s going on? You’ve been kinda quiet lately.”
She shrugged, still not meeting my eyes. “Nothing.”
I hated that response.
She used to tell me everything, but now it felt like she was shutting me out. She pulled on her backpack and moved toward the door like she couldn’t wait to leave.
“Lily, wait.” My heart was in my throat. I hated how distant she’d become, and it frightened me more than I wanted to admit.
“You know you can talk to me, right? About anything.”
She paused with her hand on the doorknob.
For a second, I thought maybe she’d turn around and open up to me. But then her shoulders stiffened, and she just nodded.
“Yeah.
I know.” Her words were hollow, as if she didn’t believe them herself. She opened the door and slipped out without another word.
I stood there in the silence, feeling it close in on me. Something was wrong.
I just didn’t know what it was yet.
That afternoon, I was going through the laundry, like I always did on the weekends. Lily had tossed her backpack onto her bed, and it looked like it had survived some kind of battlefield.
I figured I’d clean it out before throwing it in the wash, so I started digging through the mess of crumpled papers and snack wrappers. That’s when I found the note.
A folded piece of paper slipped out of the side pocket, so worn that it was practically falling apart.
I stared at it for a second before unfolding it, something heavy settling in my chest.
“I’m your real dad.
Come and see me last Monday of September behind the school.”
My heart stopped. The words blurred for a second and it seemed like my brain couldn’t process what they meant. Real dad?
What the hell was this?
I was Lily’s dad… I’d raised her since the day she was born.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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