The wait was killing him. He’d always been an impatient person, and now, waiting to meet the person that he was sure would become the most important being in his life, the seconds seemed to drag like hours, each slowly making way for the next. He was sure he’d never spent a longer hour in his life.

He looked towards Misty, who was sitting about a meter from him. She had been quiet for nearly the whole hour, staring off into the distance, no doubt thinking about what had just happened. He again studied the face he had loved, those features he had always become so lost within. He began to feel them work their old magic, but the wounds she had inflicted kept him from falling again.

She sensed his eyes upon her, and for one of the rare times since they had meet again she looked at him, staring deep into those puppy dog brown eyes. He was a perfect picture of maturity apart from those large, innocent orbs. She had spent many a night gazing into them, seeing the love they once held for her, but now she wondered whether they would ever contain that emotion again. Then she realised he was staring back into hers, intently, however she could not understand what emotion they conveyed. They seemed so...confused.

For moments they peered into each others eyes, trying to remember the person they had loved so much.

But a knock broke the search.

They both jumped, quickly looking away from each other, subtly blushing from the intensity of the moment.

Misty glanced at the clock. Quarter past eight. “ That should be them,” she told him, nervously.

The excitement began to rise again within him, if it had ever really died down. He began to shake slightly, unsure of what to do and what may happen. What if his daughter refused him? What if she never accepted him as her father? What if two years was too long? Would she even know who he was? Misty had told him that she had told Aya about him, showed her photographs, but wasn’t reality different to a 2D image? But then if she didn’t know who he was, why did she wave at him hours before? There had to have been some recognition then.

He looked to Misty again, but she had moved. He turned to the door through which he’d first entered the apartment, and noticed her exiting, slowly closing the door over behind her. Voices came from the hallway, one was Misty’s, the other must have been their child’s.

The shaking became worse. He could barely keep his hands from quaking. The door began to slowly open. He instantly directed his vision back to the small room, afraid to keep his attention on the door. He heard the soft footfalls behind him move to his left side, and Misty came back into his vision.

She looked to her side, saying, “ Aya, I’d like you to meet someone.” The emotion was evident in her beautiful voice. “ This is Ash, your father.” She motioned for the little girl to come to her side, and with a gaiety of movement she ran into her mother’s arms, but stared straight into Ash’s face, her blue eyes full of joy, but also bewilderment.
Aya looked towards her mother, as if asking permission for something. Misty just nodded, desperately trying to contain her tears. Still the same old Misty, Ash thought, never able to allow others to see her weak. It had taken him years to break through her facade.

She turned again to her father, and took a few steps towards him, stopping mere inches away, her childish smile growing.

He apprehensively lifted his hand towards her face and delicately touched her tender cheeks, then pulled his fingers through her thick hair. It felt weird. It was his blood that ran in her veins, his DNA that made half of her. His baby. His daughter. He could feel it in the touch.

“ Daddy?”

It seemed like half a question, half statement, and the voice was like an angel’s. She knew him, recognised him. He glanced at Misty. Her emotions had overwhelmed her, as well, at the solitary word. Her hand covered her mouth, and new tears dropped from her eyes.

Ash brought his attention back to his daughter, and in a sudden impulse, took the child into his arms, holding her tightly against his chest.

“ Yeah. It’s me. It’s me.”