That night, Sebastian couldn’t sleep. The penthouse felt hollow, every shadow whispering her name. He poured himself a drink he didn’t touch, replaying the scene in his mind—the necklace, the girl’s eyes, the same silver-gray color as Amelia’s. Could it really be her? His daughter?
At dawn, he drove back to the stall. Nora was there again, arranging fruit and singing softly to a tune only she could hear.
“Morning, Mr. Ward,” she greeted with a smile.
He nodded, his heart pounding. “Nora, did your mother ever talk about your father?”
She looked down. “Not much. She said he was a good man who made mistakes. She never hated him, even when things got hard. She said love doesn’t disappear—it just changes shape.”
Sebastian felt something break inside him. After all those years, Amelia had never spoken of him with anger.
He asked if she had any photos, and Nora unlocked her cracked phone. On the screen appeared an old picture: Amelia holding a newborn baby in a hospital room, her eyes tired but full of light. Around her neck gleamed the same crescent necklace.
Sebastian’s throat tightened. He didn’t need proof. He could see himself in the baby’s eyes, in the way the little hands reached toward the light.
He told her everything—how he had searched for years, how pride and regret had stolen his family. When he finished, Nora’s eyes shimmered. “So you’re saying… you’re my father?”
“I am,” he said softly. “And I’ve never stopped wishing I could find you.”
See more on the next page
Advertisement
