Chapter 1
Three years into our marriage, my husband, Michael Lane, came home with a medical report.
The report said he had azoospermia, which meant he couldn't have children.
He held me close, his eyes red with tears, and said, "If you want a child, we could get a divorce."
I cried all night.
My bestie, Emily Harper, glanced at the report and gave a sarcastic laugh.
"Are you seriously convinced because of a piece of paper?" she scoffed.
"Maybe he's not infertile at all. Maybe he already got someone else pregnant ages ago," she added.
I immediately denied her claim and shook my head.
"No, he wouldn't lie to me," I said.
Emily let out a helpless sigh.
"Honestly, if the mistress showed up in front of you with a baby bump, you'd probably let her sit down," Emily teased.
Later, she was the one who stayed by my side as I went through numerous hospital consultations, tests and administrative procedures, and went over adoption documents with me.
Whenever I broke down in tears over not being able to have a child, Emily would wrap her arms around me. "It's okay if you don't have kids. You still have me."
As Emily said that, her three-year-old daughter, Sophie Harper, was snuggled up in my arms, copying Emily's words.
"You still have me too," Sophie chimed in.
Three years ago, Emily got pregnant out of wedlock.
I went with her to every prenatal checkup, waited outside the delivery room, and even became Sophie's godmother.
She said Sophie's father refused to take responsibility, and I never pushed her for answers.
A week later, it was Sophie's third birthday.
Emily asked me to come over a little later, because she wanted to decorate the birthday place first.
Michael texted me too, saying he'd be working late tonight.
I showed up at Emily's place a little early, cake in hand.
As soon as I pushed the door open, I saw Sophie snuggling up to Michael, hanging onto his neck and begging for attention.
"Daddy, when can you sleep with me and Mommy every night? Don't go back to Aunt Charlie's place anymore," Sophie pouted.
Emily's voice drifted in from the kitchen. "Sophie, that's not something you should say. Aunt Charlie's already hurting because she can't have kids. If she lost your dad too, I don't know if she'd be able to take it.
"I could live without your dad, but I could never live without Aunt Charlie."
I stood frozen in the entryway, the cake box dangling from my fingers, feeling as heavy as if it had been dredged out of wet cement.
Through the clear lid, I could notice the cream bunny's ears flopped to one side, and the pink bow was smudged, showing a streak of cream.
The living room was filled with balloons, and the banner on the wall sparkled under the lights.
"Happy 3rd Birthday, Sophie."
Michael was sitting on the carpet.
His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, Sophie cradled in his arms. There were two star stickers stuck to his cheeks, and he wore a pink apron around his waist.
Across the chest of the apron, big, wobbly letters spelled out a message, clear as day to me. [Daddy Only.]
Those letters slammed into my eyes, and my ears went completely silent, like the world dropped away.
It was as if someone had muted the entire universe, leaving only the frantic pounding of my heart echoing in my chest.
Sophie's eyes lit up when she saw me. "Aunt Charlie."
She slid out of Michael's arms and dashed over, wrapping her arms around my knees.
"Aunt Charlie, why are you here so early? Mommy said you'd come later," Sophie said.
I looked down at her.
She was three years old, her hair tied into two soft little pigtails, wearing the dress I'd bought for her last week.
When she smiled, a faint dimple appeared on her right cheek.
That dimple looked like Michael's, as if it had been copied right off his face.
I'd noticed it before.
Back then, Emily laughed and said, "Kids always look like whoever's the cutest until they grow up. If someone's good-looking, that's who they copy."
I didn't give it another thought.
I was such a fool back then.
I crouched down, my voice barely above a whisper. "Sophie, what did you call him?"
Sophie blinked, dead serious. "Daddy."
She glanced back at Michael, like she was afraid I might not believe her, puffed up with pride, and declared, "He's my daddy."
From the kitchen came the sound of a ceramic bowl clinking against the counter.
Emily stood in the doorway, holding a bowl of soup, the rim quivering in her hands.
There were a few bits of scallion clinging to her fingertips, like she hadn't even finished cooking yet.
Emily blinked in surprise. "Charlie, why are you here so early?"
I slowly set the cake down on the entryway table. "I came to celebrate Sophie's birthday."
Michael finally stood up.
His hair was a bit messy, with those star stickers still plastered on his cheeks, and he was still wearing that pink apron around his waist.
The guy who always kept his cool around me, even fussing over a crooked tie, now looked so rattled he didn't even care about his appearance.
"Charlie, let me explain," Michael said, his voice shaky.
I avoided his gaze, my eyes landing on the dining table.
There was already a cake there, bigger than the one I'd brought. Three candles were stuck in it, with a chocolate plaque in the center that said: [Mom and Dad wish you endless happiness, Sophie.]
I stared at those words, my throat so tight it felt like I was being choked.
They looked like a real family.
And I was an outsider who'd barged in, holding a blessing nobody really needed.
Sophie was still clinging to my leg, looking up at me. "Aunt Charlie, are you upset?"
I gently stroked her hair. "No, I'm not."
She had no clue what she was saying.
She was three, parroting whatever the grown-ups told her.
Emily hurried over, reaching out to pick Sophie up. "Let's go see your gifts together, Sophie."
Sophie squirmed away, refusing to go. "I want to open my presents with Daddy."
Michael spoke in a low voice. "Do what Mom says, okay?"
Sophie pouted and looked up at me. "Aunt Charlie, is Daddy going away again? Mommy said Daddy can't stay with me all the time, or you'll be sad."
My fingers jolted.
Emily quickly covered Sophie's mouth and crouched down to soothe her. "Sophie, let's not talk about that, okay?"
Sophie didn't realize she'd said something wrong, and her eyes began to well up with tears.
I looked at Emily, my voice barely above a whisper. "Let her talk."
Emily froze.
I said, "I really want to hear how pathetic I am as her godmother."
The room went dead silent.
The soup in the pot kept bubbling, and the balloons drifted around in the air from the air conditioner.
The whole place was decked out for a birthday, but it all felt like a big, cruel joke.
Michael took a step forward, reaching out to touch me. "Charlie, let's talk outside. We don't want to scare the kid."
I backed away, glaring at him. "Oh, so now you're suddenly worried about scaring the kid?"
His hand froze in midair.
Emily scooped Sophie up and practically bolted into the kids' room.
As the door closed, Sophie was still clinging to her shoulder, whispering, "Daddy, don't go back to Aunt Charlie's place, okay?"
That tender, sticky-sweet "Daddy" was like a needle in my ear.
It wasn't heavy.
But it hurt like hell.
It wasn't that I showed up too early.
I learned the truth way too late.