That voice—you recognize it from anywhere—bringing up an unwanted memory of a past love, one where you were left crawling on your knees as you begged him to stay. You never expected to meet him again after 7 years, much less with a daughter of his own.

"Dawn, wher-" His words are cut short, his eyes widening as the lost little girl you were holding runs towards his arms. The look of realisation, as he looks you up and down almost painfully.

Sometimes, fate is such a cruel thing.