doesn’t explain abandoning your living daughter.”
His eyes filled.
“I was terrified she’d have it too. I checked whether she was breathing when she slept.”
“So you left me to carry that fear alone.”
“Yes.”
“And Dad told me you came back once.”
Carl nodded.
“He told me to leave.”
“And then?”
“I left.”
“For twelve more years.”
“I know.”
“What stopped you?”
He looked directly at me.
“Me.”
I believed him.
But Lily and I had still paid for his guilt.
“When Lily asked why you weren’t coming home, do you know what I told her?”
He shook his head.
“I told her you were hurting too.”
His eyes filled.
“I protected you while I was furious with you because she had already lost enough.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know you are, Carl. But regret doesn’t raise a child. Letters don’t replace birthdays. And punishing yourself doesn’t make thirteen years
