“That is good,” I replied, though my voice carried a trace of bitterness that I could not fully hide.
He looked at me with a seriousness that felt different from the past and said, “Madeline, I want to acknowledge him legally and I want to be his father.”
My chest tightened as I asked, “To do what,” because words alone no longer meant anything to me.
“So he will not grow up without a father,” Zachary said, and there was a quiet urgency in his tone.
I met his gaze and said, “Where were you when I was throwing up alone and going to every checkup by myself,” and he lowered his head in shame.
“I was weak and I was wrong,” he admitted, and for once there was no excuse hidden behind his silence.
I looked back at my son and finally said, “If you want to be his father, you will have to prove it through actions and not promises.”
He nodded slowly, his eyes red with emotion, and said, “I will prove it.”
The next morning he returned to the ward carrying a paper bag with breakfast and a small bouquet of white daisies, and he waited near the door until I gave him permission to enter.