Chapter 2
The word hung in the air, thick and heavy, like a punch to the gut.
A collective gasp rippled through the guests.
Victoria’s face turned bright red, then white, then a sickly shade of purple.
Ethan froze. His mouth fell open, his eyes locked on the little girl like he was seeing a ghost.
He took three long strides toward her, his long legs eating up the grass, and dropped to his knees right there in the mud.
He was careful not to touch her at first, his hands hovering in the air like he was scared she’d break if he got too close.
“What did you say?” His voice cracked, raw and broken. “What’s your name, baby?”
“Lila.” She whispered it, her voice small, but her eyes never left his. She held out the crumpled paper she’d been clutching, her fingers still shaking. “Mama said to give this to you. She said you’d know.”
Ethan took the paper, his hands trembling so bad he almost dropped it.
He smoothed it out on his thigh, and I leaned over to see.
It was a crayon drawing, done in bright, wobbly colors: a tall man with brown hair and a big smile, holding hands with a little girl with pigtails. At the top, in messy capital letters, it said ME AND MY DADDY.
Tucked behind the drawing was a folded letter, the envelope yellowed at the edges, addressed to Ethan in a handwriting I’d know anywhere.
Mia’s.
Mia was Ethan’s college girlfriend, the love of his life, the girl he’d planned to marry before she vanished without a trace seven years ago. He’d looked for her for months, cried for her for years, before he finally tried to move on with Victoria.
Ethan ripped the envelope open, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.
I read over his shoulder, my heart hammering in my chest.
Mia wrote that she’d found out she was pregnant two weeks after she left. She’d been scared—scared Ethan would give up his dream of becoming an architect to support her and the baby, scared he’d resent her for it. So she’d run, moved to a small town two hours away, had Lila, and raised her alone.
She’d gotten sick six months before, aggressive breast cancer that spread too fast. She’d tried to reach out to Ethan a dozen times, she wrote, but every letter, every call, had been blocked.
When the doctors told her she had two weeks left, she’d written this letter. She’d told Lila who her daddy was, described his smile, his laugh, the way he scratched the back of his neck when he was nervous. She’d given Lila the drawing, bought her a bus ticket as close to the wedding venue as she could, and told her to find him.
Mia died two days after Lila left.
Lila had walked the last twelve miles to the wedding, slept in a ditch by the side of the road the night before, because she didn’t have money for a taxi.
Ethan was sobbing by the time he finished the letter, big, ugly tears rolling down his face, dripping onto the paper. He looked up at Lila, his chest heaving, and held out his hand.
“Lila,” he said, his voice thick. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I swear to God, I didn’t know.”
Lila stared at him for a long second, then stepped forward and wrapped her tiny arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder.
That was when Victoria snapped.
She stormed over, her heels clicking so hard on the pavement I thought she’d crack it, and grabbed Ethan’s arm, yanking him back.
“This is a scam,” she screamed, her face twisted with rage. “She’s a little con artist, Ethan! That letter’s fake! Mia’s dead, she can’t write letters! Get this little brat away from us!”
Ethan wrenched his arm free of her grip, his eyes hard as flint. He stood up, lifting Lila with him, holding her tight against his chest like he was scared someone would take her away.
“You knew,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Mia tried to reach out. You blocked her, didn’t you? You threw away her letters.”
Victoria’s mouth opened and closed, no sound coming out. The guilt was written all over her face, bright as day.
“Answer me!” Ethan roared, and the guests flinched.
May you like
Tears of rage spilled down Victoria’s face. “She was going to ruin everything!” she shrieked. “We were supposed to be happy! You were mine! That little mistake was never supposed to exist!”
The words hung in the air, and I knew, right then, that the wedding was over. That nothing would ever be the same again.
