I stayed parked down in Jordins neighborhood all night and well into the next day. I didn’t sleep.
How could I?
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her—that little girl in purple, staring at me with my own eyes. My eyes. Looking at me like I was just some man. A stranger who drove away from her.
I spent the night choking on the truth, right there in that fucking car. Seat leaned back like I was resting, but my mind was screaming. Playing it all back. Jordin’s face when she saw me. Not anger. Not even hurt. Just... resignation. Like she’d been expecting me to run.
The sun rose, painting the sky in colors I didn’t deserve to see. I was still there. Same parking spot. Same fucking clothes. Same hollowed-out shell of a man who’d just discovered he’d been a father for years and didn’t know it.
My phone buzzed. Avian.
I let it go to voicemail. Twice.
The third time, I answered, my throat felt scraped raw. "What."
"Get up," she said, no greeting, no bullshit. "They can see your car from the house. You look like a stalker. Or a ghost. Get your ass over here and face this."
"I can't." The words felt like gravel in my mouth.
"You can. You have to. Jordin's locked in her room. Your daughter asked why the sad man left." Her voice broke on the last words. "She saw you leave, Ciarán. A three-year-old felt your rejection."
The air left my lungs. I actually couldn't breathe. My hand pressed against my chest, like I could physically hold my breaking heart together.
"I didn't know," I whispered. "I didn’t reject her. I already lo—"
"You did," she cut me off, merciless. "You just did, you rejected her. By driving away. You’re too good at that, ain’t you? Leaving. You don’t feel ashamed"
Each word was a nail. Hammering me into this seat. Into this failure.
"What do I even say to her, Birdy?" The plea was pathetic. "What words exist for this?"
"You get on your knees if you have to," she said, her voice trembling with fury and tears. "You say you're sorry. You say you're a coward. You say you're so fucking sorry you missed her first steps, her first words, the first time she looked at the sky and pointed. You apologize for every single second you weren't there."
A sound tore from my throat—half sob, half choke. I was crying. I couldn't stop it. Hot, silent tears streamed down my face, and I didn't even bother to wipe them away.
"I have a daughter," I said, the words a brutal, beautiful agony. "And her first memory of me is watching me drive away."
The silence on the other end was heavier than any yelling.
"Yeah," Avian finally said, soft now. Devastated for me. "It is."
I couldn't speak. Just sat there, broken open, crying in a rental car down the street from my own family.
"I'll make it up to her, later," I managed,
"No," she said. "You'll do it now. Or I will personally make sure you never get another moment's peace. She is a part of you, Ciarán. You don't get to abandon yourself."
She hung up on me and the finality in it make me nauseas .
I sat there, the phone slipping from my hand.
I had a daughter.
I had a daughter, and I wasn't there when she learned to walk.
I had a daughter, and I didn't know the sound of her laughter.
I had a daughter, and I'd rather sit in this car and drown in my own shame than go look at the living, breathing proof of my greatest failure.
