Five minutes after our divorce, my ex told me, “Take the girls—I have a son on the way now.” So I quietly took our daughters and left the country.

“You still have two daughters now.”

“The identity of Sabrina’s baby does not change that.”

He had no answer.

I ended the call.

For the next three days, Michael called repeatedly.

Most of the calls were not about Lily or Sophie.

They were about Sabrina.

About the test.

About his parents.

About his embarrassment.

I stopped answering unless his message specifically mentioned the girls.

On the fourth day, he finally sent one.

Can I talk to Lily and Sophie tonight?

I replied.

Yes.

Seven o’clock.

He called at 7:18.

Lily noticed the time.

She said nothing.

Sophie ran to the phone.

“Dad!”

Michael’s face appeared on the screen.

For a moment, his expression changed.

He looked genuinely happy.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Sophie showed him her new bedroom.

She showed him the backyard.

She showed him the maple tree outside her window.

Then she asked, “Do you miss me?”

Michael’s eyes filled.

“Yes.”

“A lot.”

“Do you miss Lily?”

“Yes.”

Lily sat beside me.

She did not move toward the screen.

Sophie called her.

“Lily, Dad wants to see you.”

Lily finally approached.

“Hi.”

Michael smiled.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“How’s Vancouver?”

“Fine.”

“How’s school?”

“Starts Monday.”

“I’ll come visit soon.”

Lily looked directly at him.

“When?”

Michael hesitated.

“Soon.”

Lily nodded.

“That isn’t a date.”

I closed my eyes.

Michael looked wounded.

“I need to sort some things out.”

“Okay.”

Lily walked away.

The call ended two minutes later.

The paternity results arrived the following Tuesday.

I learned about them from Monica.

She called unexpectedly.

I almost ignored it.

Then I answered.

“Laura?”

“Yes.”

“I owe you an apology.”

I sat at the kitchen counter.

“For what?”

“For more things than I can fit into one phone call.”

Her voice shook.

“The baby isn’t Michael’s.”

I closed my eyes.

I did not feel joy.

I did not feel revenge.

I felt tired.

“I’m sorry.”

Monica gave a broken laugh.

“You’re apologizing to me?”

“There’s a child involved.”

“None of this is his fault.”

She became quiet.

Then she said, “Evan is the father.”

The test had confirmed it.

Sabrina admitted she had seen Evan several times after their engagement
ended.

She had discovered the pregnancy shortly after beginning the affair with
Michael.

The dates were close enough that she convinced herself Michael was the
father.

Or perhaps she simply preferred the answer that gave her the life she
wanted.

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