It wasn't until Emily gently closed the door behind her that the dam finally broke. For two days, I had held back every tear, every choking breath. But now, with no one around to see or judge, I clutched the blanket and broke down in sobs.
Even Emily could see it—how I had poured myself into Elise, given her my best years, my patience, my heart. Yet to Sara, to Elise, to my own parents, everything I'd done was nothing more than my duty. Expected. Taken for granted.
I didn't know how long I cried. At some point, exhaustion overtook me and I fell into a heavy sleep.
When I woke up, the morning light was already streaming through the curtains. Noise floated up from downstairs—voices, laughter, the clink of cups. I dragged myself out of bed and headed down, still numb from the night before.
The moment I stepped into the living room, I froze.
There, seated comfortably on the center sofa, was Francis.
He looked exactly as I remembered—taller, perhaps, more mature, but still with that easy charm that made people gravitate toward him. Elise was curled up in his arms, her face lit with adoration. She clung to him like he was her entire world.
My parents hovered nearby. My mother, who'd spent the last ten years raising her voice at me for every tiny thing, now fluttered around Francis like he was a long-lost prince. My father, always stern and aloof, had a rare softness in his eyes.
"You—you heartless thing," my mother said, tears shimmering in her eyes. "Not one phone call in ten years. Were you trying to kill us with worry?"
My father gently tugged at her sleeve. "What's done is done. He's back now. Let's just be thankful for that."
Across from them sat Sara.
She didn't speak. But her eyes were on Francis—fixed, unwavering. The tenderness in them was so naked, it made my chest ache. In ten years of marriage, I had never seen her look at me that way.
Elise let out a cheerful giggle and nuzzled into Francis's chest. "Daddy, you're the best daddy in the whole world!"
My breath caught in my throat. If I hadn't lived the last ten years—hadn't been the one who woke up at 2 a.m. to change her sheets when she had a fever, who showed up at every parent meeting, every scraped knee and school recital—I would've believed him to be the one who raised her.