So I didn’t.
From that moment on, I became “Dad Tom.”
Not legally.
Not officially.
But in every way that mattered to her.
And, whether I admitted it or not, to me too.
Every morning, she would look up at me and ask the same question.
“You won’t leave me, right?”
And every time, I answered without hesitation.
“Never.”
I meant it.
I just didn’t know how soon that promise would be tested.
One morning, everything changed.
I arrived at her house like always, but this time, someone else was there.
A man stood on the steps, holding her arm as she struggled to pull away, her voice shaking as she called out for me.
“Dad!”
I rushed forward immediately, my heart already racing.
“Let go of her,” I said.
The man turned toward me.
He looked almost identical to her, same eyes, same features, but there was something cold in the way he carried himself.
“You must be Dad Tom,” he said. “We need to talk.”
His name was Jake.
Her uncle.
And within seconds, he dropped the truth like it meant nothing.
Mary had passed away that morning.
The words didn’t register at first.
But Chloe’s crying did.
“She has no one left,” Jake continued. “So here are the options.”
He spoke like he was discussing logistics, not a child’s life.
He could take her with him, move her to another city, drop her into a completely new life where she knew no one. Or…
I could take her.
I stared at him, trying to understand how someone could say something like that so easily.
“You’re talking about her like she’s a burden,” I said.
He didn’t deny it.
“I didn’t ask for this,” he replied. “I have my own life. I’m offering you a solution.”
A solution.
That word hit harder than anything else.
Behind me, Chloe was crying, still calling my name, still holding onto the only thing she believed wouldn’t disappear.
