But then I see Ivy’s face in my mind.The way she handed me that purple crayon like it was a test and trusted me to pass.The way she let me hold Bun-Bun.The way her laugh cracked something in me wide open.
I tighten my fist around the pack, then toss it in the trash.No more.Not around her.Not in her world.If I wanted to be her father, then I had to be a man who could show up, not one who smelled like smoke and left ash on everything he touched.
I spent the day differently than I ever had.No bar.No fights.No restless spirals.Instead, I cleaned my apartment, really cleaned, like I was preparing for someone else to step into it.I hit the gym, not to burn out the rage but to sharpen it into something I could carry steadily.
Every time the craving for a cigarette claws at me, I think of Ivy.Six years old, clutching a teddy bear I should’ve given her on her first birthday.Six years of a life I’ve missed.I won’t miss another day.
By late afternoon, I drive to House of Ink, not for work but because I need to be there, need to be seen.
Skye is behind the counter, her belly round, her smile tired but warm.She blinks when she sees me, then narrows her eyes.“You look different.”
I smirk.“Good different?”
“Suspicious different,” she shoots back, then leans closer.“What’s going on?”
I shrug, but the truth slipped out anyway.“I met her.”
Her face softens instantly.“Ivy?”
“Yeah.”I swallow hard.“She’s ...she’s perfect.”
Skye’s eyes glisten, but she grins.“Of course she is.She’s Zora’s.”Then adds in quieter, “And yours.”
The words hit me like a brand.Mine.I don’t argue.Instead, I spend the evening at the shop, sketching designs, answering questions from customers, taking walk-ins like I belong.Because I do.This isn’t just Zora’s world anymore.It is Ivy’s.And if I want to be part of her life, then I need to prove I can stand steady inside it.
****
Zora calls when I amhome.Her voice is hesitant, but not cold.
“She keeps talking about you,” she admits softly.“About your tattoos.About Bun-Bun’s new friend.”
Something warm and fierce surges inside my chest.“I’d like to see her again.Whenever you’re ready.”
Silence stretches, before she replies.“Maybe this weekend.We can go to the park.”
My grip on the phone tightens, a smile tugging at my mouth.“I’ll be there.”
I don’t add,I’ll always be there.But I mean it.She ends the call and I step out onto my balcony, when I feel the craving hit again.My fingers itch for the box that isn’t there anymore.But instead of giving in, I pull out a sketch pad and draw.
Not tattoos.Not flames or skulls.A little girl with wild curls, clutching a rabbit and a teddy bear.My daughter.And when the urge passes, I know this is what staying feels like.Not easy.Not clean.But worth it.
For her, I’d burn every old habit down.Because I’m not just fighting to be Ivy’s father.I’m fighting to be the kind of man Zora can finally believe in.And I won’t stop until I do.
