"Sweetheart, what are you doing out here in this cold?"
The guilt and tenderness in his eyes didn't look fake.
It only deepened my confusion.
Cynthia acted as though she hadn't noticed Dad at all. She sauntered toward the exit, but as she stepped down the stairs, she let out a sudden cry and pitched forward.
In less than a second, Dad threw himself across the ground, cushioning her fall with his own body.
"Thank you, sir. You must be a wonderful father!" Cynthia gushed with gratitude.
Dad beamed, his smile stretching from ear to ear.
The desperate longing for family that had burned in my heart, along with my last shred of doubt, scattered in the cold wind.
As my father approached again, I instinctively took half a step back.
He didn't notice anything wrong. He even smiled and said, "You see how kindhearted your dad is? How could I have possibly abandoned you just because you had oxygen deprivation at birth and were a little slow as a child?"
"It was the creditors—they were relentless. We were afraid you'd get hurt."
"Ah!" He sighed heavily.
Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes.
But I no longer felt moved. Only silence remained.
He grabbed my hand.