She handed it to me with trembling fingers. Inside was a letter written in Charles\u2019s unmistakable handwriting.<\/p>\n
“My name is Charles Morrison. If you’re reading this, it means I’ve finally built the courage to reach out. I’m your father.”<\/p>\n
My breath caught. Tears blurred the words. Rage, disbelief, grief\u2014everything surged at once.<\/p>\n
“I panicked when you were born. I wasn\u2019t ready. My mother helped me disappear. I thought it was right. I was wrong. I\u2019ve watched from afar. I hope we can talk. I understand if you don\u2019t want to.”<\/p>\n
At the bottom was a phone number\u2014the same one from the call log.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow did you find him?\u201d I asked Susie, surprised by the calm in my voice.<\/p>\n
\u201cI found him online,\u201d she said softly. \u201cMonths ago. I wanted to see if I looked like him. The letter came later.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI have his eyes, don\u2019t I?\u201d<\/p>\n
I nodded, unable to speak.<\/p>\n
\u201cThen I called him,\u201d she whispered. \u201cWe\u2019ve been talking for two months.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you want to keep talking to him?\u201d I asked, my throat raw.<\/p>\n
\u201cI do,\u201d she said, a tear slipping down her cheek. \u201cI need to know why he left.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n