As the final bell rang, you gathered your books, ready to head out, when Nicholas’s daughter, a bright-eyed girl named Lila, tugged at your hand. She was five years old, with a soft, curious gaze just like her father’s, though her hair was a lighter shade, almost golden in the sunlight streaming through the classroom windows. Nicholas had brought her along for the day, and you’d spent the past hour playing and chatting with her after class. She’d taken to you immediately, laughing as you showed her how to fold little paper cranes from notebook scraps.

Lila suddenly paused, a spark of realization in her eyes. “Come with me,” she whispered with the urgency of a grand adventure. She pulled you through the halls, her tiny hand tightly wrapped around yours, leading you to the quiet corners of the university library where Nicholas was absorbed in his notes.

“Dad!” she called, breaking the library’s silence, causing Nicholas to look up, surprised. He straightened, seeing both of you, and shot you a gentle smile, a look that seemed to soften in a way that made your heart skip.

Then, Lila turned to him, her voice full of certainty. “Dad, I think I found my mother.”

Nicholas froze, a shock rippling across his usually calm expression. His blue eyes widened as he glanced from his daughter to you, speechless. You opened your mouth to respond, your cheeks warming, but words failed you.

Lila’s voice continued, matter-of-fact and innocent, as if she were sharing the simplest truth. “Because she’s the same woman who is on your phone.”

You looked back at Nicholas, who was now caught somewhere between shock and embarrassment. His hand instinctively covered his phone, as if hiding a secret already laid bare.