“I don’t want a polite conversation. I want an answer.”
His jaw tightened.
“He knew you were pregnant.”
I waited.
“He left anyway.”
Each word felt carefully chosen.
“That is your answer.”
“I don’t believe you.”
His face hardened.
“Whether you believe me is irrelevant. Take your daughter home.”
For one moment, I was a little girl again.
My mother’s hand was around mine.
William was standing in the doorway.
Angry voices followed us outside.
I could almost hear him saying we weren’t welcome there again.
Then another memory appeared.
A little boy running after us.
Caleb.
Crying.
And then—
His small hand gripping the back of my bicycle.
Me shouting because I was afraid he’d let go.
His voice behind me.
“Keep pedaling. I’ve got you.”
I stood halfway between William’s porch and my car, looking down at Nora.
Maybe William was telling the truth.
Maybe that little boy had grown into a man capable of abandoning his own child.
But if that were true, I needed to hear it from Caleb.
Not his father.
I turned around.
“William.”
He looked annoyed.
“I am not leaving until Caleb stands here himself and tells me he doesn’t want his daughter.”
“You’re behaving irrationally.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“For the first time in months, I’m being completely rational.”
Before William could answer, a man’s voice came from somewhere inside the house.
“Dad. Move.”
William stiffened.
Footsteps approached.
Then the door opened wider.
Caleb stepped onto the porch.
He looked exhausted.
His hair was unkempt.
Dark circles sat beneath his eyes.
For months, I had imagined confronting him.
I’d rehearsed furious speeches in the shower.
I’d imagined slapping him.
Crying.
Demanding explanations.
Begging for them.
But when he finally stood in front of me, every rehearsed word disappeared.
There was only one question that mattered.
“How long have you known who I was?”
Caleb looked at me.
He didn’t pretend not to understand.
“Since the bookstore.”
My heart sank.
“So meeting me wasn’t an accident.”
“I saw your name on the event announcement. I went because I wondered if…”
“If I was the girl with the red bicycle?”
His silence answered me.
“All those questions about my childhood,” I said. “You already knew.”
“Yes.”
“For nearly two years, Caleb?”
“I wanted to tell you.”
“But you didn’t.”
