After They Stole My Life, Reborn I Called Another Man Dad Chapter 02

After They Stole My Life, Reborn I Called Another Man Dad Chapter 02

Ethan hadn’t noticed any of it.

He was searching through his pockets. Eventually, he pulled out a tiny white knitted hat, barely bigger than his palm.

A slightly crooked little strawberry had been sewn onto the brim.

He tried putting it on me twice.

Both times, he pulled it down over my eyes.

In the end, the nurse had to come over and fix it for him.

“Your mom made that.”

Ethan stared at the little hat. The corners of his mouth lifted into a faint, strained smile.

“She was terrible at this kind of thing. When she was pregnant with you, she decided she had to learn how to knit. I lost count of how many times she tore it apart and started over. This was the best she could do.”

The hat was a little too big, so I couldn’t see his face clearly.

“It’s kind of ugly,” he admitted. “But it’ll do for now.”

For the first time, I moved my fingers on purpose.

I grabbed the front of his shirt.

Ethan froze.

Then he looked down at me.

“What is it?”

Of course, I couldn’t answer him.

But somehow, he seemed to understand.

He gently patted my back.

“Looking for Dad? Dad’s right here.”

It was such a simple sentence.

Yet suddenly, my nose stung.

My newborn body seemed to have a mind of its own. My lower lip trembled, and before I could stop it, I started crying.

Ethan immediately panicked.

“What happened? Are you hungry? Did you wet yourself? Is the hat scratching your skin?”

He stood outside the hospital, rocking me back and forth.

The more he tried to soothe me, the harder I cried.

Finally, the nurse came running after us.

“Not so fast! She just finished eating. You’ll make her spit up!”

Ethan immediately went rigid.

I lay against his chest, looking over his shoulder.

I watched as the Miller family’s car pulled out of the hospital parking lot.

Slowly, my crying stopped.

This time, I didn’t chase after them.

The Vances lived far from the hospital, in an old walk-up apartment building with no elevator.

Ethan carried me in one arm and the hospital’s bag of supplies in the other. By the time he reached the fifth floor, sweat was running down his face.

The moment he opened the door, I froze.

The entire living room was filled with baby supplies.

Unopened boxes of diapers.

Sterilized bottles.

An entire row of tiny outfits that had already been washed and dried.

Against the wall stood a brand-new crib.

Several sticky notes had been attached to the headboard.

[Three months: Take our first family photo.]

[Six months: Take the baby to the zoo.]

[First birthday: No store-bought cake. Make one from scratch.]

The last note was unfinished.

Only half a sentence had been written.

[If she ever asks why I loved her so much…]

The ink stopped there.

Everything after it was blank.

Ethan stood in front of the crib for a long time without moving.

Then he reached out and took the note down.

He turned his back to me.

“Your mom was always writing things like this.”

He gave a small laugh.

“Her handwriting was still terrible.”

A tear landed on the back of his hand.

He quickly wiped it away.

Then he put the note back where it had been.

Finally, he looked down at me.

“It’s okay. You can ask Dad that question someday, too.”

His voice softened.

“I’ll answer it for her.”