A kind stranger gives them a tree and decorates it with candles and stars.
On Christmas Eve, the tree lights up and brings joy to the entire village.
Sofia listens without interrupting.
When I finish, she looks up at me.
"That was a good story," she says.
"It was."
"Do you like Christmas?"
I think about my answer for a moment because I want to always be honest with her.
"I used to. When I was younger."
"Why did you stop?"
"Because the people I celebrated with aren't here anymore."
She's quiet for a moment.
Then she asks, "Who are you?"
What a hard question to answer.
I'm a killer.
I'm a man who takes what he wants and leaves little in return.
I'm a hard man, a criminal, a man who would destroy the world to keep her safe, and a man whose heart is a lonely chasm of anger and pain, unable to be controlled.
But most of all, I am a man who will fight to make this world a place worthy of my little girl.
"I'm your father," I say.
She blinks. "My father?"
"Yes," I tell her calmly, and she smiles.
"But Mama said I don't have a father."
"She said that because she didn't know where I was. But I'm here now."
She processes this slowly.
Her expression shifts from confusion to curiosity. "Are you going to stay?"
"Yes."
"Forever?" she asks, leaning closer, pressing her head to my side.
"For as long as you need me."
Sofia nods and curls against my side, whispering, "Read it again?" I smile at the request.
She's come so far in such a short time toward liking me.
