So, I’m raising my 9-year-old daughter, Lily, on my own since my wife passed away. We’ve always been close, but lately, she’s been acting distant, cold even. Snapping at me, rummaging through my things—it felt off.
Then came last Saturday. I was doing laundry, and Lily’s backpack looked like it had gone through a warzone. I decided to clean it out before tossing it in the wash. As I was emptying the side pocket, I found a note, folded so many times it was practically falling apart.
The second I unfolded it, I saw this, “I’m your real dad. Meet me behind the school, last Monday of September.”
I was shaken. Her real dad? That’s me. This felt personal, like a threat. The meeting was two days away, so I decided to follow her.
So, I followed her after school, keeping my distance. She nervously walked to the back of the school. Then I saw a very familiar face.
