“The girl in the photo is called Emily. She is my daughter.”
I felt the waiting room tilt.
- His daughter.
I read the sentence again, convinced that I misunderstood. But the words were clear. My father had another daughter. I had a sister I never knew about.
I took my hand to my mouth and kept reading.
“Emily was born before I met your mother. Rebecca was the first woman I had a serious relationship with. We were young, unprepared and far too stubborn. We broke up before I found out she was pregnant. When he told me about the baby, I was already in a different relationship.”
“I tried to be present in Emily’s life, but I did it poorly. I promised things I didn’t keep. I hid the meetings, invented the delegates, and let Rebecca handle herself too often.”
“Your mother found out about Emily when you were six years old.”
