“I need to know if—”
“If they’re yours?” she cut in.
Her voice was ice.
Daniel swallowed. “Yes.”
“And if I say yes, then what?” she shot back. “You just stroll back into our lives and everything magically fixes itself?”
“No,” he said. “But I need the truth. I need to know.”
Ella stared at him—hurt, anger, exhaustion all tangled together.
“You left without a word, Daniel,” she said. “You didn’t call. You didn’t check on me. I raised them alone.”
“I know,” Daniel whispered.
“No. You don’t,” she snapped. “You don’t get to show up after six years and demand answers.”
“Just give me one chance,” he said. “One conversation.”
She hesitated… then pulled out her phone, typed an address, and held the screen up.
“Tomorrow. Six a.m. One minute late, and I’m gone.”
Daniel wasn’t late.
They sat across from each other in a quiet café. Ella gave him fifteen minutes—no more.
“Are they mine?” Daniel asked.
Ella held his gaze… and finally nodded.
“Yes. All three.”
He didn’t know if he should cry, apologize, or crawl under the table.
“They were born six months after you left,” she said softly. “I thought about calling you. But why? You chose yourself. I chose them.”
Daniel didn’t defend himself.
He couldn’t.