I stand on Lily’s porch, staring at the closed door.
I deserve this.
I deserve worse.
But I can’t leave.
I can’t walk away.
I sit on the steps and wait.
I see her tricycle.
I see the wildflowers in her garden.
I see the small, white cottage with the creaky porch and the window box full of daisies.
I see the life she built without me.
I think about everything I’ve missed.
First steps.
First words.
First day of school.
Birthday parties.
Bedtime stories.
All of it.
I missed all of it.
I don’t know how long I sit there.
Hours, maybe.
The stars come out.
The air gets cold.
But I don’t leave.
I hear the door open behind me.
I turn.
Lily is standing there, holding a sleeping child in her arms.
Sophie.
My daughter.
She’s beautiful.
She has dark curls and chubby cheeks and she’s wearing princess pajamas.
She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“She’s asleep,” Lily says quietly.
“You can come in.
But only for a minute.”
I stand up.
My legs are shaking.
My heart is pounding.
“Thank you.”
I follow her inside.
The cottage is small and warm and full of light.
There are toys scattered on the floor and dishes in the sink and a half-finished puzzle on the coffee table.
It’s a home.
A real home.
The kind of home I never had.
Lily lays Sophie on the couch and covers her with a blanket.
Then she turns to me.
“Say what you need to say.
And then leave.”
I look at Sophie.
I look at Lily.
I take a deep breath.
“I’m sorry.
For everything.
I’m sorry I wasn’t brave enough.
I’m sorry I wasn’t there.
I’m sorry I missed everything.
And I know, I know that sorry isn’t enough.
But it’s all I have.”