Every day, Leo would take Daisy out to play. He taught her how to swim in the massive pool. They had ice cream dates. He took her to school every morning and picked her up at closing. He helped her with her homework—math, English, even arts and crafts. Whenever she struggled, he was patient.
Faith stayed distant at first, mostly watching from afar—arms folded, frown tight. She would supervise their outings with fake detachment.
Then one afternoon at the movies, Daisy suddenly asked, “Mommy and daddy, are you guys going to get married? My friends say their mommies and daddies are married. Are you two married or are you planning to get married? Am I going to have younger siblings?”
Faith choked on her popcorn. Leo coughed so hard he spilled his drink. They looked at each other in slow motion.
“Where did you hear that from?” Leo asked.
“My classmates,” Daisy replied confidently. “I want us to watch cartoons together, go to bed together, and do like real family, not this film trick family you people are doing.”
Faith stared at her daughter like she wanted the sofa to swallow her. Leo just rubbed the back of his neck. But the truth—he wanted that too.
A few weeks after they moved in with Leo, Faith recovered fully from her surgery and decided she wanted to work. Leo offered her a good job at one of his companies. She refused.
“I’ll get a job myself,” she said flatly. “I won’t owe you more than I already do.”
She got a job as a waitress. The pay was low. The hours were long, but her pride remained intact.
Leo didn’t argue, yet he never stopped trying. He made her breakfast in bed, even though the eggs were too salty the first time. He picked her up from work. He bought her new shoes. She returned them. He bought her a new phone. She hid it in the wardrobe for a week. He couldn’t breathe well under her daily bad-eye stares, but he endured.
One evening, after six months of trying, Leo found his courage.
“Can we talk?” he asked.
Faith nodded.
“I know I’m the biggest idiot alive,” he began, sitting beside her. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’m sorry. I abandoned you. I abandoned our daughter. I chose my career, and I’ve regretted it every single day.”
He dropped to his knees and held her hands gently. “Please, I’m not asking for much. Just forgive me.”
Faith’s eyes welled up. “I forgave you the day I saw my daughter,” she whispered. “She has your lips, your nose, even your annoying stubbornness. Seeing her every day reminded me of you. Seeing her grow every day… I couldn’t stay mad at you, so I forgave you long ago.” She sighed. “After the breakup, I lost my scholarship. I dropped out of school. I worked any job I could. I had no one. I thought about giving her up, but I couldn’t. She became my world.”
Leo gripped her hands tighter. “Thank you for not getting rid of her, for raising her, for being strong.”
That night marked the beginning of something new. They started sharing little things again—movie nights, glasses of wine in the garden, jokes about their university days. Faith started smiling again. Leo started breathing better.
Then one day during breakfast, Daisy dropped another bomb.
“Mommy, are you in love with Daddy again? I noticed how you’ve been smiling at him like toothpaste advert. I saw your red lipstick. You’ve been dressing nice. It’s because of Daddy, right?”
Faith covered her face. Leo choked on his toast. Daisy giggled.
“You people better get married. Oh,” she added, “I’ve already told my classmates.”
A few weeks later, Leo asked Faith to be his girlfriend again. She agreed. Months later, he proposed. Faith said yes. They got married in a small, emotional ceremony. And this time there was no pride, no bitterness, no stubborn goat—just love, just healing, and one very talkative flower girl named Daisy who stole the show.
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