I hated seeing it written down.

I turned to the next page.

Richard had written, “I sent letters for years. Some came back. Some didn’t. I eventually stopped because your mother made it clear she believed you were better off without me.”

Sophie watched me carefully.

“Is that true?”

I folded the papers.

“It’s complicated.”

Her expression was almost apologetic.

“That’s what Daniel keeps saying.”

That one hurt.

We returned to the table.

Daniel looked at me, then at the papers.

His face changed.

“Sophie.”

She said, “I’m sorry.”

He pushed back his chair.

“You went through my things?”

“I found them beside the printer.”

“You had no right.”

“No,” I said. “She probably didn’t.”

He turned toward me.

I put the papers on the table.

“But neither did you.”

Richard leaned back.

“Amanda—”

“Don’t.”

Daniel said, “Mom, I was going to tell you.”

“When?”

“After graduation.”

“Why after?”

“Because I wanted one day that wasn’t about this.”

“Then why invite him?”

His jaw tightened.

“Because I wanted my father at my graduation.”

That hurt.

I nodded.

“Okay.”

He looked surprised.

“But you didn’t need to exclude me to do that.”

“You would’ve made a scene.”

“Would I?”

He glanced at Richard, then back at me.

“Wouldn’t you?”

I hesitated too long.

Daniel gave a bitter laugh.

“Exactly.”

Richard spoke quietly.

“He contacted me because of the baby.”

I looked at him.

Daniel’s expression hardened.

“Dad.”

“No. We’re already here.”

Dad.

I hadn’t heard Daniel call him that since he was a child.

Richard continued.

“Daniel wanted family medical history.”

That was how everything had started.

After learning Sophie was pregnant, they decided to do carrier screening. One questionnaire asked about family medical conditions, and Daniel realized he knew almost nothing about Richard’s side.

So he found him online.

Daniel sent one message.

Richard responded within an hour.

A conversation meant to cover diabetes, heart disease, and cancer became something much bigger.

Daniel asked where Richard had been.

Richard told him enough.

Alcohol.

Gambling.

Debt.

Rehab.

Relapse.

Then sobriety.

Finally, I said, “Tell him why you left.”

Richard looked at me.

Daniel frowned.

“He told me.”

“No. He told you he had problems.”

I kept my eyes on Richard.

“Tell him what happened the night before I made you leave.”

Richard lowered his gaze.

After a long silence, he said, “I drove with you in the car.”

Daniel went still.

“What?”

“You were nine.”

Richard’s voice barely rose above a whisper.

“I’d been drinking.”

I remembered that night perfectly.

I had been working late, and Richard was supposed to collect Daniel from soccer practice.

Instead, another parent called because she’d seen Richard stumble while getting out of his car.

By the time I arrived, Richard had already driven Daniel home.

Daniel remembered the argument afterward.

He didn’t remember why it happened.

“He was so drunk he clipped our mailbox pulling into the driveway.”

Daniel stared at his father.

“You never told me that.”

Richard nodded.

“I should have.”

“Mom told me you left after you two kept fighting.”

“We did,” I said. “But that was the last night.”

I made Richard leave.

Two months later, he went to rehab.

Then he relapsed.

Then he disappeared for almost a year.

He missed Daniel’s tenth birthday.

Christmas.

And the school play Daniel had practiced for months.

I explained all of it.

Then I reached the part I was ashamed of.

“When you were 12, he contacted me.”

Daniel looked at me.

“He had been sober for almost two years.”

Richard stayed quiet.

“He wanted supervised visits.”

“And you said no.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”