life I deserved.
My daughter turned twenty-one this year.
I hadn’t seen her since the day she was born.
Last week, she found me.I was having lunch at a quiet café near the hospital when I noticed the waitress staring at me. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-one. Dark hair pulled into a ponytail. Nervous hands gripping her notepad.
When she walked over, my stomach tightened.
“Mrs. Collins?” she asked softly.
“Yes?”
Her lips trembled. “My name is—”
I knew.
Somehow, before she even said it, I knew.
“
