“Mommy… Daddy!”
Before we can say anything, she scrambles out of bed and throws herself into our arms.
Maddison laughs through tears. I pull them both close, breathing in the scent of Ivy’s shampoo.
Moments later, we’re downstairs in the kitchen.
Cereal bowls sit between us on the table, milk and spoon clinks filling the room.
Ivy pushes a Cheerio around the table with her spoon like it’s a tiny hockey puck, giggling when it finally flips into her bowl. She looks up at me with milk drips on her chin, completely unbothered, completely happy.
And God… I forgot what that feels like.
Maddison sits across from us, hands wrapped around her own mug taking it all in. I catch her watching Ivy, then watching me, and something in her eyes goes soft. Wet. Grateful.
Ivy leans forward suddenly, holding out a Cheerio fused to her fingertip.
“For you, Daddy.”
I take it without thinking, without flinching. And the sound Maddison makes, something between a laugh and a choke, lands in the center of my chest.
This shouldn’t feel new.
It used to be our mornings. Our life. Our normal.
But it feels like I’m holding something fragile.
I help Ivy refill her bowl. She’s humming some nonsense melody, Maddison smiling at her like she’s trying to memorize every frame, and for a moment, just one, I feel the ground under me again. Not steady, not healed, but real.
“This…” Maddison says quietly, her voice shaking enough that I look up. “I didn’t think we’d ever get this again.”
I swallow hard. I don’t trust myself to say anything more than, “Yeah.”
A beat.
“We’re lucky.”
She nods. It’s small, but it carries years.
Ivy drops another Cheerio, bursts into a fit of giggles, and Maddison laughs with her, this soft, warm laugh that hits somewhere deep I’ve been avoiding for a long time.
There’s a calm around us now. A peace I didn’t expect to feel today. Maybe not ever.
After a moment, Maddison looks at me. Really looks at me. “Nathan,” she says quietly. “How did you finally find her?”
The question sits between us.
I lean back slightly. “A woman from my building. Her name is Ella.” I still don’t quite believe it when I say it out loud. “I don’t know how she found Ivy. She left a letter. I haven’t… fully read it yet.” I reach into my back pocket and take it out, the folded envelope I shoved there last night without thinking, and set it on the table.
As I do, something slips free.
The photograph slides out and lands face-up between us.
Maddison reaches for it automatically. Her hand freezes halfway there. Her breath catches.
She stares at the picture for a long second before she finally picks it up. “Hmm,” she says.
There’s something in her voice I don’t recognize. I gaze at her, lifting an eyebrow as I wait for her to continue. “She looks familiar.”
