There was no real force in it now, only heat trying to disguise itself as anger.
Then I stepped fully into the apartment, and the heat of Edwina behind me gave way to the warmth of her home.
The living room was dressed for Christmas without trying too hard. Warm lights lined the shelves, garlands hung across the mantel, and a large tree stood in the corner with ornaments, ribbons, and handmade decorations tucked between the branches. At the foot of the tree, Helena sat on the carpet with dolls, toy dishes, and torn ribbons spread around her, lost in some little world of her own making. For a second, I could only stand there and look at her because I still did not know how a man was supposed to survive this. My blood was sitting in front of me, alive and breathing, after I had spent all that time not knowing she existed.
Her eyes were mine.
That truth hit before anything else. They were too familiar in her small face, carrying a darkness I knew because I had seen it in my own reflection for years. Every time I looked at her, the certainty dug deeper. Helena was mine.
She was beautiful in the clean, careless way children were beautiful, untouched by all the ugly shit adults did to each other. That was what hurt the most. I was not a good man. I had neverpretended to be one. But standing there, looking at her in that Christmas-lit room, I felt every ruined part of myself like a stain.
Edwina cleared her throat beside me, and Helena heard it at once. Her head turned, and the second she saw her mother, her whole face lit up with trust so easy it made my chest ache.
“Mommy,” she said brightly.
Edwina’s expression softened, and fuck, that did something to me too. She stepped forward and said, “Sweetie, we have a guest.”
Helena blinked at me, then glanced back at her toys before lifting both arms toward Edwina.
“Up,” she said.
Edwina bent and picked her up without hesitation. Helena settled against her at once, one arm around Edwina’s neck, her eyes fixed on me with open curiosity.
I tightened my hand around the gift bag. For the first time in my life, I had no idea what the fuck to do with myself. I had to stay where I was because every part of me wanted to cross the room and find out what it would feel like to hold my daughter without hesitation standing between us. I wanted to be the one she reached for that way and wanted to pick her up, feel the weight of her in my arms, and know what it was like to hold my own child without asking permission first. The instinct hit hard and ugly, because wanting her was easy. Knowing how to approach her was the part that made me feel useless.
So I stayed where I was.
Then Helena looked over at me, still tucked against Edwina, one small hand tangled in her mother’s sleeve. Edwina kissed her hair and said softly, “Sweetie, say hello.”
Helena studied me with the grave curiosity children carried when deciding whether someone belonged in their world. Then her face brightened.
“I know you,” she said.
The words hit me so hard that for one stupid second, I forgot how to breathe.
“You do?” I asked, and even I heard the change in my voice, the edge stripped away by shock and by a hope I had no fucking right to show.
She nodded, sure of herself. “You came to my birthday. Mommy’s friend.”
Something loosened in my chest. For days, I had carried the memory of Helena calling mesir, that careful little wall between us lodged somewhere it had no business hurting. Now she remembered me. I had not disappeared from her mind the moment I walked out of her birthday. I was still a stranger in the ways that mattered, but at least I had a face to her now. At least I was something.
It should have been a small thing.
To me, it felt fucking enormous.
For a second, I let myself have it. She knew I had been there. She remembered my face. I had one thin thread to hold on to, and I was pathetic enough to cling to it.
A faint smile pulled at my mouth before I could stop it. “That’s right,” I said. “I came to your birthday.”
Helena studied me as if checking her own memory, then shifted in Edwina’s arms and said, with complete seriousness, “You asked me my name.”
A warmth moved through me. “I did.”
For one moment, the room felt softer than it should have. Christmas lights glowed around us, and Helena’s small voice reached across a distance I had expected to stay wider for much longer. I set the gift bag down on a nearby chair because my hand had tightened around it.
“Can I say hello properly this time?” I asked.
Helena glanced at Edwina first. Edwina gave her a small nod, her hand moving over Helena’s back. That was all she needed.
