Victor couldn’t hold back any longer. He’d wanted to wait for the DNA test results, to be certain, but the words spilled out. He shared his suspicion—that she might be his daughter. Anna listened, her breath catching in her throat, her hands trembling as she clutched her son.
“No way,” she gasped. “That’s impossible!”
“It’s possible, Anna,” Victor said gently, his voice warm and steady. “I’m almost certain it’s true.”
The DNA test confirmed it. Victor was overwhelmed with joy, a feeling so profound it eclipsed anything he’d ever known. He’d found the daughter he never knew he had! And Anna, with her newborn son, finally had a home, a grandfather who would move mountains for them. She could never have imagined that Daniel, her ex, would reappear like a ghost from her past, disrupting the fragile peace she’d found.
He’d heard about her through mutual acquaintances from Dayton who’d seen her at the hospital. His call came out of nowhere, catching her off guard as she fed her son.
“What do you want?” Anna asked sharply, instantly regretting answering.
“I just want to meet and talk,” Daniel said, his voice low, almost pleading.
Talk? After he’d thrown her out, pregnant and alone, onto the streets? She needed her father’s advice more than ever.
“It’s your decision,” Victor said, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I’m not the best with these things. Go, hear him out, and then decide what’s right for you.”
Reluctantly, Anna agreed to meet. Daniel poured out apologies, swearing he regretted everything, his eyes brimming with what seemed like genuine remorse. But his words rang hollow, failing to pierce the armor she’d built around her heart. “My mom’s sick,” he added quietly. “We don’t know if she’ll make it, but we’re fighting. She wants to apologize too. Would you come with me to see her at the hospital?”
“So that’s it,” Anna thought bitterly. “Your mom’s dying, and now you remember me. If life was fine, you’d never have called.” The conversation repulsed her, but her compassion—her stubborn, unshakable kindness—won out. She agreed to visit Evelyn Rose at the Cincinnati Medical Center, to hear her out.
Evelyn spoke with tearful sincerity, her frail voice barely rising above a whisper. But Anna wasn’t sure she could forgive those who’d betrayed her so cruelly, who’d urged her to erase her son’s existence.
She sat by Evelyn’s bedside, holding the woman’s trembling hand. Evelyn lay beneath an IV drip, her face pale, her eyes sunken, yet she tried to smile. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “If I could take it all back, I would.” Anna stared out the window at the gray March sky, her thoughts a tangled storm. Her son, little Noah, slept soundly in his stroller nearby, his soft snores a quiet anchor in the tension.
Daniel lingered in the corner, shifting nervously. “I know you hate me,” he began as Evelyn drifted into a medicated sleep. “But I’ve changed. Mom’s illness—it flipped my world upside down. I couldn’t sleep, sitting here, realizing what a fool I was.”
Anna turned, her gaze cold and unyielding. “You remembered me when things got bad for you,” she said, her voice low but sharp. “Where were you when I was sleeping in Aunt Ruth’s shack? When the clinic kicked me out because I had no ID? Do you know I ate rotten potatoes from a fire because I couldn’t afford bread?”
Daniel’s face flushed, his eyes dropping to the floor. “I didn’t know how to find you,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible.
“Didn’t know, or didn’t want to?” Anna shot back. She stood, gently adjusting the blanket over Noah’s stroller. “You think a few words fix everything? That I’ll forget how you threw me out like garbage?”
He stepped closer, reaching out, but she recoiled. “Give me a chance,” he pleaded. “I want to be there for Noah. He’s my son.”
“My son?” Anna’s smile was bitter, her eyes blazing. “Where were you when he was born on the street? Now that you’re in trouble, you claim him. But you know what? He already has a family—my father, who took us in when everyone else turned their backs.” Daniel stood silent, his breath heavy, his excuses spent.
Back at Victor’s apartment, Anna recounted everything over a steaming mug of chamomile tea. “He wants to see Noah,” she said, her voice weary. “But I don’t trust him.”
Victor nodded, his expression thoughtful. “If he’s serious, let him prove it. Words are cheap, Anna. Focus on yourself and your son—you need peace.”
Anna managed a small smile, her first that day. In this warm, quiet apartment, filled with the scent of herbal tea and the comfort of her father’s presence, she finally understood what home felt like.