He sat on the sofa of Misty’s apartment, looking at the place where she had been living for the past few years. It looked small, but comfortable, a living room and kitchen in one, with a few doors leading to, he guessed, the bedroom (or bedrooms) and bathroom. The decor matched Misty perfectly - simple and elegant, but not overly neat.

She came from the kitchen area, sitting on the far side of the sofa, handing him a cup of steaming hot tea, placing her own cup on the coffee table in front of them. She didn’t take her eyes of the tea, afraid to meet his. He could perceive the panic on her face.

“ Misty. What happened to us? Why did you leave? Did I say something, do something, to stop you loving me?”

She could hear the hurt in his voice, the sense that he’d been betrayed. Tears threaten. She always knew what her leaving must have done to him, but for the first time seeing it, the full impact of her actions hit her. The salty liquid began to drip down her cheeks, rolling off her chin, soaking into her clothes.

“ It wasn’t you, Ash. You never did anything wrong.”
“ Well, then why the hell did you do this to me?” His anger began the filter through again.

The tears began to come harder. She had to blink constantly to keep her focus upon the drink clear. “ I’m so sorry, Ash, I am. I was just so...just so scared of how you’d react. I needed some time to sort everything out in my head. I was only going to leave for a little while and come back when I was ready, but the longer we were apart, the more afraid I became. I didn’t know how you’d take it.”

“ Take what. Misty!” He touched her for the first time, bringing her tear soaked face to look at him. Even with everything that had happened, her touch was intoxicating to him. “ Misty, what is it? Why were you so terrified of me? Misty, please tell me,” he pleaded.

“When I left...I was...I was-”

He was beginning to become impatient. “ You were what?” he almost shouted.

“ I was pregnant.”

Instantly his rage disappeared, succeeded by a chaos within his mind. “ Preg-” He could barely utter the word. “ Preg...nant?” he attempted again.

“ Over those last few weeks, I began to notice the signs, but I ignored them, thinking, praying it was just something else. But...but the doctor confirmed it. I couldn’t believe it. We’d always been so careful.

“ I left to have some time alone, figure out what I was going to do, but the more the baby grew, the more attached I became to it, the more I wanted to have her. I wanted to come back, to tell you but I didn’t know how you would feel. I was worried that you’d want me to have an abortion or that you’d leave me or we would have her but you’d hate her. I was too frightened to return.”

He sat in shock, staring into her saturated eyes. His body started to shake. “ Wha...what did you do?” he asked cautiously.

She slowly raised herself from the sofa, while wiping her damp face with the back of her hand, and picked up a small wooden picture frame from the fire mantelpiece. She then stood before him, shaking with terror, and handed him the item.

He glanced at the frame, unsure what she was telling him, then looked into her face again, confusion evident. She noticed it.

“ She’s...she’s...” Her fear threatened to take hold of her again, the familiar salty liquid beginning a fresh assault upon her raw skin. She had to force the answer through her sobs, the words she had always dreaded, and dreamed of, saying to him. “ She’s your daughter.”

“ Wh...what?” He couldn’t believe it. Reality seemed to drift from him. He didn’t know whether he was awake or asleep.

He brought his bewildered eyes down to the photograph again and gazed at the small figure it contained. A little girl, hair the colour of his, bright intelligent eyes, the same as her...mothers. He could barely think the word, it seemed so alien, not applicable to Misty.

But another word seemed stranger. Father. That was what he was. A father. And he didn’t even know. His child, who must’ve been just over two now. He had never held her, kissed her, told her how much her ‘daddy’ loved her. He could feel it, though. Mere seconds after finding out that he was a father, he could feel the love he had for his daughter, a person he’d never met.

Teardrops hit the glass cover of the frame. He looked closer into the face. It was her, the little girl from the festival. How could he not know she was his? She was a perfect amalgamation of her parents features. He should have seen it. He was her father. Weren’t fathers meant to feel these things. But maybe he had. He cast his mind back to when he saw her. There had been something. He knew, from the way she had looked at him and waved, that there was some hidden link between the two, some connection. Now he understood the feeling he’d had while looking into those eyes.

His lips shaped themselves into an awkward smile. “ I saw her. At the festival,” he whispered, barely loud enough for Misty to make out. The thought of having a child, a daughter, filled him with so much joy, but that joy was tinted. Tinted with...anger. Anger at the mother.

He pulled the frame closer to him, holding it against his chest, and lowered his head, his emotions overtaking him.

“ Ash, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I didn’t want to lose her.” She leaned down, her head at the same as his, and delicately touched his hand. But he bitterly pushed it away, lifting his head, and giving her the harshest look she had ever seen him express.

“ Don’t touch me!” he cried. “ Don’t you ever touch me again.”

“ Ash,” she uttered cautiously. She sat back down on the sofa close to him, making him raise and move hastily away from her.

“ Do you understand what you have done to me?” he yelled. “ Do you know how much you have hurt me? For years, I have blamed myself for what happened between us. I thought I’d done something to make you leave, hurt the person that meant more to me than anything else. My life has been hell since the day you left, and now you tell me that I have a child and that you didn’t tell me ‘cause you were afraid that I’d try to force you to get rid of it or something. Do you know how that makes me feel?”
Some of his rage was left behind, to be replaced with misery. “ I always told myself that if I ever had a child, I’d always be there for it. I’d see it born, I’d help raise it and I’d never abandon it. You have made me break that promise. You’ve turned me into my father. I don’t want my child to think I abandoned her.”

“ She knows you didn’t,” she quickly replied. “ I’ve told her everything, that it’s all my fault. She knows who you are. Your name is on the birth certificate. I’ve show her all the pictures I have of you. I wanted her to know who her father is and that he never did anything wrong. That it was her mother’s fault. I always hoped that one day you’d meet her.”

“ Then why didn’t you tell me about her. How could you think that I’d reject her. She’s my own flesh and blood, Misty. I thought you knew me better than that. Because of your fear I’ve missed the first years of my baby’s life. I can never get that back, and I can never forgive you for that.”

“ I know, and you never should. No matter how many times I say I’m sorry I know it will make no difference.”

He sat down again, a confusion of emotions taking hold. For the first time in his life he felt contempt for the woman he’d loved, a feeling he hated. How could she of done this to him? How could she think so lowly of him?

“ Ash, I am so sorry for all this, but you’d only turned eighteen. I didn’t want to ruin your life. You were so young.”

“ I don’t care how old I was, their was no way I’d willing leave a responsible like that. She is as much my child as she is yours, and no matter what, you are not keeping her from me now I know. If I have to fight you in court for equal custody I will, but I want to be part of her life.”

“ That’s what I’ve always wanted. I want you to be in her life. It’s what I dreamed of.”

They sat in an awkward silence for several minutes, looking in opposite directions, afraid to confront each others eyes. They didn’t know what to do or say. The quite sobs died down as their emotions calmed.

Ash broke the hush. “ Where...is she now?”

“ I asked a friend to mind her for a few hours so we could talk.”

“ When will she be back? I really want to meet her.”

“ At about eight.”

He raised his head slightly to look at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was a little past seven now. In only an hour he would meet his daughter. Excitement built within his body. No matter what, he would make sure he was the best father he could possibly be.

He noticed more picture frames next to the clock, most with his baby the main focus. He stood again and walked over to the mantelpiece, passing Misty. Looking at the child in them, a smile formed upon his face.

“ My little girl,” Misty heard him whisper. Her tears began again, but this time not with trepidation, with joy. He had passionately accepted her. She had had nothing to fear. That made her crime seem greater.

“ What’s here name?” The question had never entered his mind in all that had gone before.

“ I named her ‘Aya’, the name we had once agreed upon.”

He remembered the conversation they’d had not that long after they’d started dating. They had been talking about if they eventually wanted to have children, and had got onto the topic of baby names. They had decided upon ‘Aya’ for a girl, and ‘Kai’ for a boy.

“ I always loved that name. Thanks.”

“ We had agreed, and I didn’t want to break the promise.”

A little indignation returned. “ What about the promise we had made that no matter what, we’d always be together?”

She was taken back by the coldness of his statement. When she was younger, she would have replied with some kind of cheeky response, but past events had calmed that side of her, and the fact that he had done nothing to deserve what she had done. She just remained quiet, staring at his back. She had thought that maybe he would be able to forgive her enough for them to at least be friends again, but she knew that no matter what, he would always be angry, rightly so, and occasionally these kind of comments would be said. But she was glad that he would be there for their daughter, even if he always considered her an enemy.

Ash continued to look at the photographs, each showing another stage in Aya’s life. From ones that were perhaps only taken a few weeks ago to two of a new born baby. In one she was with another woman, most likely a friend of Misty’s, and in the second she lay sleeping in her mother’s arms. Even then she had a thick crown of black hair. She was perfect, so beautiful. All he had to do now was wait.