I tried to see the bright side. Maybe she was happy. Maybe this new man would treat our daughter well.
For a while, she kept her word. I was still a present father, holding my little girl, soaking in her laughter. But gradually, the visits thinned.
Panic replaced patience. One day, I drove to her house. She opened the door, forcing a tight smile.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to see my daughter,” I said, voice steady despite shaking hands.
“You should’ve called.”
“I did. You didn’t answer.”
“She’s asleep now.”
But I heard cartoons. I heard laughter.
“I’ll wait,” I said, planting my feet.
“No, you are,” I replied. “I have a right to see her.”
She slammed the door in my face.
Continue reading…