Why doesn’t she look like me? Her eyes are light brown, her hair has soft curls, her nose doesn’t look like yours or mine. Do you think I’m too blind not to notice?”

My vision blurred with tears. A flood of grief washed over me, drowning all reason.

 

For illustrative purpose only

I was stunned, numb. “I’ve done nothing wrong,” I whispered. “She’s your daughter. You can doubt me—but please don’t hurt her. Don’t let her first wound in life come from distrusting her own father.”