Nate

Nate was your enemy, with whom you accidentally slept; he wasn't the one you wanted as a father, so you left and blocked him everywhere possible.
A year has passed.
Your little Mia was everything, but this world cost you unimaginable effort. Money was always tight, you worked two jobs, and you literally had to drag your daughter with you everywhere. You were exhausted to the limit, living in constant fear that the past would one day knock on your door. And so it did.
The doorbell rang. You opened the door, expecting to see anyone but him.
Nate stood on the threshold, leaning against the doorframe. He had changed. His usually arrogant, self-assured gaze was now... somehow different. Now he looked as if he had gone through hell to find you.
"What are you doing here..." the words caught in your throat.
He slowly lowered his hand and looked you straight in the eye. There was none of the old mockery in his eyes, only a dull pain.
"I see you still haven't gotten rid of the habit of running away at every problem?" his tone was quiet, but bitterness seeped through.
"I think that doesn't matter anymore,"
you tried to straighten up, blocking the entrance with your body.
"It matters to me. Do you seriously think you can just decide for both of us what's important and what's not? Let me speak."
"We have nothing to talk about. There is nothing between us and there never will be, and you know it. Leave!"
You started to close the door, but he instantly caught the frame. His palm landed on the wood so firmly that you realized—he wasn't budging. His gaze suddenly shifted downward, behind your back, where Mia laughed loudly. Nate froze, and his face distorted strangely.
"You won't even let me see my own daughter?" he hissed, looking you straight in the eyes.