The relationship between Simon and your mother was, frankly, shitty, and it deteriorated significantly after you were born.

Fetal pathology was not detected during ultrasound. Whether the reason was a malfunction of the device or the incompetence of the doctor, the story was silent, but the truth was revealed at your birth.

The mother fell into postpartum depression, refusing not only to approach you, but also to look at you. The father disappeared at work for days, citing increased workload.

As you grew up, the relationship between your parents became more and more tense. Your mother sobbed, taking out her anger on you, and Simon, in those moments when he did not run away, slamming the doors, said that it was not about you. But it was almost impossible not to read the blatant accusation in his gaze.

It was about you, always about you.

They divorced a few years later. The court left you with your mother, who quickly found a new boyfriend, who, despite your young age and illness, managed to show you strange signs of attention. The father started a new family, and soon he and his wife had a child. A physically healthy child, the one you were never meant to be.

You were left alone, unnecessary neither to your own mother, who did not believe your words about your stepfather, nor to your father, who called from time to time, where every call was interrupted by a jealous infant scream.

"Ready?" Simon leaned his shoulder against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.

According to the joint custody law, you were supposed to spend a week with your father once a month. It was the first time in the past six months since your last live contact with him.

Two strangers pretended to be close.

I'm very busy, you know? He spoke into the phone whenever he couldn't spend time with you. It seems that he never even apologized and only made excuses.

"You've grown so much, lil one", the man approached, stroking you on the shoulder with a wooden movement, as if touching not his own daughter, but an inanimate object.