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The air in Amelia’s office felt heavier than steel, pressing into my chest, wrapping around my ribs until they threatened to crack. She was curled on the floor, shoulders shaking, her sobs ragged and unrestrained, and all I could do was stand there, frozen, useless.
Her words spun in my skull like knives.
You broke me. I couldn’t let you break her too.
I had been angry, furious even, but now… guilt cut deeper than rage ever could. Because damn it, she was right.
Seven years ago, I had a cold man- and honestly I still was to an extent. I had treated her like a contract, not a wife. I had shut her out, all business, no heart. I thought I was protecting myself, protecting her even, by keeping it transactional. But in reality, I had left her alone, with me, yet utterly alone.
And now I was staring at the cost of that selfishness.
I had missed everything.
Her first steps. Her first words. Her first scraped knee, her first birthday candle.
A daughter. My daughter. And I hadn’t even known.
The thought nearly broke me in two.
I crouched slowly, cautiously, as though approaching a wounded bird. She didn’t look up. Her hands covered her face, her body curled into itself, as if she could make herself small enough to disappear.
“Amelia,” I said, my voice cracking on her name.
Her sobs didn’t stop.
I tried again, softer this time. “Please… look at me.”
She shook her head violently, muttering through her tears. “You hate me. I know you do, Just go.”
The words gutted me. “No,” I whispered fiercely, reaching out but stopping just short of touching her. My hand hovered in the air, trembling with the need to hold her. “I don’t hate you. God, Amelia, I could never hate you.”
Her shoulders stilled, her crying easing just enough for me to continue.
“Do you have any idea what you just gave me?” My voice cracked again, thick with emotion. “Yes, I’m angry. Yes, I’m hurt. But underneath all of that… you’ve given me something I never thought I’d have.”
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Finally, slowly, she lowered her hands. Her swollen eyes met mine, filled with fear. “What do you mean?”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “I have a daughter.” The words felt surreal, foreign, but also…. right. A shaky smile tugged at the corner of my lips. “I have a daughter, Amelia. That’s all I can think about right now. Nothing else matters.”
Her lips parted, disbelief flickering in her expression. She shook her head, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “You can’t just say that. You can’t act like this makes everything okay. You don’t understand-”
“You’re right,” I cut in gently, moving a little closer. “I don’t understand everything. I don’t understand the nights you spent alone. I don’t understand the fear you carried. But I do understand one thing, I want to be in her life. And I want to earn back your trust.”
Her brows knitted. “Earn my trust?
“Yes.” I swallowed hard, forcing the words out because they needed to be said. “I can’t erase what I did to you back then. I can’t erase the fact that I wasn’t there when you needed me most. But I can be here now. For both of you.”
Amelia shook her head, her voice small. “It’s not that simple. She doesn’t know you. To her, you’re a stranger.”
“That can change,” I said, my tone firmer this time. “I don’t expect her to call me dad tomorrow. I don’t expect her to even like me right away. But I’ll show up. I’ll be consistent. I’ll earn her love the way I should have earned yours.”
Her eyes filled again, but this time it wasn’t just pain, it was something else. Something closer to disbelief… maybe even hope.
“You really think you can just walk into her life after all these years?” she whispered.
“I don’t just think about it,” I said, my chest tightening. “I need it. Amelia, I need her. I need both of you.”
Her hand flew to her mouth as another sob broke free. I couldn’t hold back any longer–1 reached forward, gently prying her hand away and holding it in mine. Her skin was damp with tears, her fingers cold, but she didn’t pull away.
“I should have been there,” I said, my voice raw. “For her. For you. I should have asked what you needed, instead of hiding behind contracts and pride. I can’t change that now. But if you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”
She stared at me, eyes wide, lips trembling. “And if I can’t forgive you?”
The question sliced through me, but I didn’t flinch. “Then I’ll live with that. But I’ll never stop being her father. That part isn’t up to forgiveness, it’s blood. It’s who I am. Who she is.”
Silence. Heavy, weighted silence. Then she whispered, almost like she was afraid of the answer: “What about
us?”
I froze. My heart slammed against my ribs. Us. The word tasted like something I hadn’t let myself hope for.
I leaned closer, lowering my voice. “I don’t know where we go from here. But I do know this: I don’t want to
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just be her father. I want to be… yours, too. Not a contract. Not an arrangement. Real. I love you, Amelia.”
Her breath hitched. She tried to pull her hand away, but I tightened my grip, not letting her retreat back into her walls.
“You don’t mean that,” she whispered.
“I’ve never meant anything more in
my
life.”
Her tears spilled over again, and she turned her face away. “You don’t get it. Loving you nearly destroyed me the first time.”
I closed my eyes, my chest aching. “Then let me prove that this time will be different.”
For a long time, she said nothing. Just silence, broken by the faint sound of her uneven breathing. Finally, she let out a shaky laugh, bitter and soft. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It’s not easy,” I admitted. “But it’s worth it.”
When she finally looked back at me, I saw it, the crack in her armor. The tiniest sliver of belief.
It was enough.
I squeezed her hand gently, lowering my forehead to hers. “I have a daughter,” I whispered again, the words sounding like an oat. “Nothing else matters now.”
A
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
