Elena was pregnant.”
It wasn’t a question.
Celeste didn’t answer.
“You knew she was carrying my child.”
The kitchen became silent.
Poppy shifted in my arms.
Adrian looked at her again.
His expression changed.
There was no dramatic outburst.
No shouting.
He simply looked like a man suddenly realizing how much of his daughter’s life had passed without him.
Her first steps.
Her first words.
Her first birthday.
Every sleepless night.
Every fever.
Every ordinary morning.
All those moments he’d never experienced.
“How old is she?” he asked quietly.
“Twenty-three
