Chapter 7 Is Hope My Daughter?

Daisy’s P.O.V.

After dropping Hope off at school, I come to the cafe I usually visit when she’s at school. I like to spend my time here when I’m not feeling alright. The owner, Eva, is a sweetheart. She is a lady around my mother’s age and treats me like her daughter. Although her husband and daughter died in a car accident, I have never seen her cry for them. She always talks about them with a smile on her face. She is the kind of woman whose presence is enough to lift your spirits.

I met her shortly after I moved to Manhattan. She helped me a lot during my pregnancy, or I should say, she took care of me.

Manhattan has been quite lucky for me. First, I met Ella at my job, then Eva, and then received the good news that I was carrying a baby. Now I pray this place stays lucky for me forever.

I’m seriously not ready to face my dreadful past, Luke.

As I settle in the corner seat and engross myself in writing, keeping all my problems aside, Eva’s sweet voice catches my attention. “Daisy, here’s your favourite Raspberry Cheesecake.”

“Thank you, Aunt Eva.” As she places the plate of cheesecake on my table, I pass her a warm smile. She always serves me herself, no matter how busy she is.

She takes a seat beside me and ruffles my hair as I inhale the fragrance of the freshly baked cheesecake.

“Are you alright, Daisy?” She asks in a concerned tone, surprising me. How does she always know when something is bothering me? “I saw you looking lost today when you entered the cafe.”

“Actually, Aunt…” I hesitate, unsure of what to tell her. Discussing Luke is something I strongly dislike, and I’ve never confided in anyone about how he treated me. They only know that my marriage didn’t work out, so we got divorced.

“I’m worried about Hope. As you already know, I’m looking for a permanent job, so I wonder how Hope will manage without me. She has grown accustomed to staying with me.” I lie to her, but not completely because this issue has also been bothering me lately.

“Oh, so this is the matter?”

I nod, taking a sip of water because my mouth is getting dry from the tension.

“No problem. I have a solution,” she states, causing my eyes to widen in shock. “Hope can stay with me.”

“What? No. I don’t want to burden—”

“Shut up, Daisy. It’s not a burden for me. You know how much I love to spend time with Hope. She is like a granddaughter to me. I would love to take care of her in your absence.” She tries to convince me, taking my hand in hers, and I just stare at her in disbelief. She is such a sweetheart.

“If you’re worried that I won’t take proper care of your naughty daughter, you can install CCTV cameras in the cafe and monitor her every move,” she jokes, trying to lighten the mood, causing me to chuckle.

Her offer is more than I could have hoped for, and I feel relieved knowing that Hope will be in such caring hands while I’m at work.

“Thank you, Aunt Eva,” I say, feeling a lump form in my throat. “I don’t know what to say. This means the world to me.”

Eva squeezes my hand gently. “You don’t have to say anything, dear. We’re family, and family takes care of each other.”

My eyes become wet listening to her words. Family. When my own family didn’t allow me to live with them after the divorce, blaming me, she supported me without asking anything. She truly is my family. There isn’t any blood relation between us, but the bond we share is stronger than any blood tie.

Feeling overwhelmed with gratitude, I pull her into a tight embrace, a contented smile gracing my face. For a few minutes, I completely forget about Luke.

***

Luke’s P.O.V.

I step into the cafe, and my heart pounds in my chest as my eyes fall on Daisy, my ex-wife.

Am I dreaming? What is she doing in Manhattan?

I feel like the world disappears as I lock my eyes on her. It has been five agonizing years since our paths last crossed, and yet, her beauty still has the power to take my breath away.

Her blonde hair flows freely in the gentle breeze, her grey eyes fixed on the diary laid out on the table as she engrosses herself in writing. I still remember how much she liked to pen down her thoughts. My heart aches with guilt as I recall how once I burned her diary to ashes, just to prove to myself that I didn’t care about her. I was a monster, yet she still loved me wholeheartedly.

She hasn’t changed a bit in these five years. She still looks so beautiful that I can’t take my eyes off her. Her habit of licking her dry lips to wet them and putting her pen behind her ear while thinking is still the same.

Although I claimed to hate her and maltreated her, I could never stop myself from noticing small things about her. I had feelings for her since the first day of our marriage, but I always ran away from them because of my fucking hatred without uncovering the truth. My hatred for women blinded me to see the truth of the pure-hearted Daisy. I punished her for a crime she never committed.

What was I doing? Why did I become such a monster?

I take a deep breath to compose myself and watch Daisy, my heart heavy with remorse and longing. I wish I could change the past and never treat her so harshly. She didn’t deserve what I did to her five years ago. From the beginning, she deserved only immense joy.

I lose track of time while staring at her, completely lost in my thoughts about her. I am so absorbed in my thoughts and her I don’t even notice time passing.

I start approaching her automatically, forgetting everything. But I stop midway when the realisation hits me hard. I can’t confront her. Staying away from her is my lifetime punishment, which I’ve sentenced myself to.

No matter how much I apologise to her, no matter how much I change myself, I can never give myself a second chance after how I treated Daisy.

I have a meeting in the cafe, but I rush away before I lose control and come face-to-face with her. My heart desires this badly, but I can’t let it happen. When I’m still not ready to forgive myself and give myself a second chance, how can I expect the same from her?

***

As I reach Hope’s school to meet her, I don’t understand what kind of strong connection I have with her. She brings a smile to my face with her presence.

After seeing Daisy in the cafe, I cancelled my meeting and spent my time sitting in my car, thinking about her. The picture of her sitting at the cafe isn’t leaving my mind. After seeing her today after five long years, I feel even guiltier about my past actions because I lost such a precious person.

Seeing Hope running towards me with joy, a smile uncontrollably spreads across my face, and for a few seconds, I forget about everything. She looks as adorable as ever in her school uniform and has two ponytails.

“Uncle,” she calls out, sprinting towards me.

I crouch down to her level and embrace her. “I missed you, kiddo.”

As we break the hug, she speaks. “Hope missed you too, Uncle.”

“Mommy will be coming soon. Today I’ll introduce you to Hope’s best mommy,” she states as I stand up, taking her tiny hand in mine.

“I can’t wait to meet her, Hope. But I’m sure she won’t be as adorable as you,” I say, pulling her cheek.

She shakes her head. “No. She is adorable, like Hope. She is the best.”

Hope’s admiration for her mother makes me curious to meet her. I also want to see what is so special about her mommy that Hope can’t stop praising her non-stop.

“Mommy…” Hope squeals as she spots her mother.

As my gaze follows hers, I suddenly freeze in place when I see the person.

It’s Daisy.

Hope’s mother is Daisy. My ex-wife.

Fuck! No.

Is it possible that Hope is my daughter?

I ask myself, my eyes welling up with tears of joy. The thought brings peace to my soul and immense happiness to my heart.

Of course, she could be my daughter. She has blue eyes like mine, and her favourite ice cream flavour is chocolate.

Now everything makes sense as to why I felt so connected with her and why she reminded me of Daisy. I was so stupid not to understand this earlier.

Hope is our daughter. She is the perfect blend of me and Daisy. Blonde hair like Daisy, blue eyes and thin lips like mine. Maybe the facial features are a coincidence, but the connection we share is real.