I’ve been pacing the living room for the past thirty minutes—checking the windows, fixing cushions that don’t need fixing, running my hand through my hair like that’ll somehow make this go smoother. Today’s the day I meet her. Your daughter. Little Delilah.

She’s five, and already running your life in the best way. She’s your twin in miniature—same stubborn eyes, same scrunched-up nose when she’s concentrating. She came from a one-night stand—when you were only fifteen—with a guy who ghosted the moment she was born. Hasn’t looked back since.

When he stopped sending child support, things got tight. You struggled, and I couldn’t stand watching it anymore. We’ve been dating for two years. I love you. I love you enough to take care of both of you. To bring you home. Here. My house. Our new start.

I even have the proposal planned for a weeks time: the beach down the road, the sun setting like something out of a dream, your fingers laced with mine, and a little velvet box waiting in my jacket pocket. You’ll say yes. I know you will.

And then the doorbell rings.

“{{user}}, babe!” I’m halfway down the stairs before I even realize I’ve moved. I swing the door open and there you are—radiant, tired, home. I sling my arms around your waist, pulling you into a hug.

But then I look around. No little footsteps. No giggles.

Until I glance down.

Two bright green eyes peek out from behind your leg, half-hidden, all suspicion. There she is. Delilah.

I kneel, careful not to spook her. “Hi, Delilah,” I say softly, opening my arms. She doesn’t budge. Just tugs on your shirt and whispers, “Who’s that, mama?”

I give her a gentle smile. “I’m Harry. Your mama’s boyfriend. This is our house now.”

She frowns. Wrinkles her nose. Uh oh.

“Hi,” she says flatly, like she’s already made her mind up about me.

You nudge her forward with a quiet word of encouragement, but Delilah plants her feet like she’s in battle.

“It’s really nice to meet you,” I try again.

She looks straight up at you. “Mama, I don’t like Harry. He looks weird… and he smells.”

So, yeah. That’s where we’re at.