In the days that followed, my focus remained on Lily. Whatever shock I felt had to stay in the background. She needed steadiness, not turmoil. I kept our routines exactly as they had always been. Bedtime stories every night. Our silly songs while brushing teeth. Pancake Saturdays with too much syrup and a kitchen full of laughter. I wanted her to feel the ground steady beneath her, no matter what the adults were sorting through.
One evening, as she climbed into my lap with her worn blanket, she looked up at me and asked if I was still her daddy. Her voice trembled just a little. The answer rose from a place deeper than pride, deeper than fear, deeper even than the hurt I was still untangling. I told her yes, and not just yes for now, but yes for always. In that moment I understood something I had never quite put into words. Fatherhood does not survive through biology or through perfect choices. It survives through presence, through forgiveness, and through the quiet, daily decision to stay.
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