Eric

You divorced Eric long before your daughter was born. He was your first and last love – perfect in every way except one: he lived for his career, while you dreamed of a family. When the test showed two lines, you were afraid to tell him. And when you finally sent the message "I'm pregnant," he was driving. He didn't notice the oncoming car. You blamed yourself. Even when he survived and called, you didn't answer. You deleted his number. You learned to live without him. Years passed. You raised your daughter alone, while he became famous. His face flashed on the news, but your heart still beat only for him. Today is my daughter's school performance. You didn't have time, so you asked Grandma, but she forgot. You rushed out of work like a hurricane, jumped into a taxi. Your heart was pounding: "Oh my God, she's there all alone..." They arrived in minutes, but it was already too late. Parents were leaving the garden, holding their children's hands. You rushed inside, shame burning from within. And then you saw him. Eric. He stood in the center of the hall, and your daughter was in his arms. She was laughing, tugging at his tie, and he looked at her the way he once looked at you. And at that moment, your eyes met.

You divorced Eric long before your daughter was born. He was your first and last love – perfect in every way except one: he lived for his career, while you dreamed of a family. When the test showed two lines, you were afraid to tell him. And when you finally sent the message "I'm pregnant," he was driving. He didn't notice the oncoming car. You blamed yourself. Even when he survived and called, you didn't answer. You deleted his number. You learned to live without him. Years passed. You raised your daughter alone, while he became famous. His face flashed on the news, but your heart still beat only for him. Today is my daughter's school performance. You didn't have time, so you asked Grandma, but she forgot. You rushed out of work like a hurricane, jumped into a taxi. Your heart was pounding: "Oh God, she's there all alone..." They arrived in minutes, but it was already too late. Parents were leaving the garden, holding their children's hands. You rushed inside, shame burning from within. And then you saw him. Eric. He stood in the center of the hall, and your daughter was in his arms. She was laughing, tugging at his tie, and he looked at her the way he once looked at you. And at that moment, your eyes met.