One Last Chance

Daisy's pov

Nine months later

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It's been nine months since I signed those papers and walked out of the house that used to be ours. I had found a small place of my own — nothing fancy, but every time, I listened for the low rumble of Cooper's car pulling into the driveway. Every time tires slowed on the street, I sat up, heart climbing into my throat. Every knock on the door made my hands go still over my swollen belly. Every time it wasn't him, another piece of hope quietly died.

This afternoon, someone knocked. My pulse jumped. I told myself not to hope, and opened the door anyway.

It was my father.

“Daisy.” He said softly.

I kept one hand on the doorframe. “What do you want?”

He looked at my belly, then at my face. “You’re my only child. You’re pregnant and alone. At least let me help you.”

“I needed your help once,” I said. “To save my marriage. You refused. I don’t need you anymore. And I never will.”

I shut the door before he could answer. I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the floor, and the sobs came hard and ugly. I didn’t want him. I wanted my husband.

“Cooper,” I whispered into the empty room. “Please. Come find me. Come and get me.” Even after the divorce, I still loved him.

Then the baby moved—a strong kick against my ribs. My hand spread over the place. Maybe if Cooper saw me like this—heavy with his child, he would reconsider, and we could still be a family.

I stood up, wiped my face, and reached for my keys.

The drive to the mansion took twenty minutes.

I rehearsed the words until they felt smooth. I’m carrying your child. I never stopped loving you. We can start over.

I imagined the door opening and the hard set of his shoulders softening. I imagined his hand spanning my belly, feeling the kick, eyes going wet. I imagined him saying I’m sorry and meaning it.

I wanted those things so badly my chest ached with them.

I parked and walked up the steps. Then I knocked.

The door opened.

Cooper stood there, hair longer than I remembered, jaw unshaven. For a second, neither of us moved. Then his gaze dropped.

His eyes widened, and his lips parted a little.

He knew. In that single look, he knew the baby was his.

Hope flared so bright it almost hurt. I smiled, nervous and shaky, and reached for his hand.

“Why are you here?” he asked. The words came out exhausted.

“I've missed you,” I said. My voice was barely above a whisper. “I tried. I packed everything and left, and I still—”

I wanted to tell him about the kicks, the doctor’s appointments, my cravings, and the way my body has changed so much.

He cut me off.

“You should have gotten rid of it.”

The word sat like a cruel wound in my heart, but I told myself he was overwhelmed, that the shock had made him cruel for a moment.

He looked at my stomach and he said, "Why... why would you keep the baby?"

"Because it's ours." I whispered.

He laughed bitterly. "There stopped being an 'ours' the day my mother died. Daisy, we’re divorced. I’ve spent months trying to rebuild after losing my mother, my brother, and this marriage. I can’t keep reopening old wounds.”

“Look at me,” I begged. “Really look.”

I took his hand and pressed it to the place where our baby was moving.

The kick came strong and clear against his palm. His fingers stayed just for a second. Just long enough that I felt the walls around him tremble, and I felt hope rising from the look in his eyes.

Then, a female voice came from the living room. “Cooper… who’s at the door?”

Anastasia—his ex-girlfriend, stepped into view wearing one of his T-shirts, the hem brushing her thighs.

Cooper pulled his hand from my stomach fast.

She saw me, then walked closer and slipped in beside him, one hand resting lightly on his arm. He didn’t pull away.

“Have you… moved on?” I asked quietly.

He closed his eyes. “Yes. You should do the same.”

Something inside me folded in half.

Anastasia’s smile widened. "We’re getting married.”

Cooper said nothing. I waited for him to say she was lying, but the silence stretched until it became its own kind of answer.

“I understand,” I whispered.

Tears slipped down without permission.

“What about our baby? Cooper, this baby is your flesh and blood.”

His voice stayed low, almost tired.

“My mother was also my flesh and blood. My brother rotting in jail is also my flesh and blood. This child won't bring any of them back."

“So, you’re abandoning this child.”

He didn’t deny it. The silence told me everything I needed to know.

I straightened as best I could. If he had chosen her, then I would raise our child alone.

“I wish you both a happy married life.”

The words came out cracked and soft.

I turned before either of them could answer and walked down the steps with my spine straight and my vision already blurring.

Inside the car, the strength left me all at once. I folded over the steering wheel and sobbed until my ribs hurt. Everything I had imagined on the drive over here was an illusion.

I started the engine, but a deep rolling pain pressed on my abdomen, tight enough to steal my breath. Another wave followed, stronger. Contractions. I gripped the wheel and tried to keep the car between the lines while my body folded in on itself, and the tears wouldn’t stop.

I was driving too fast now. I need to get myself to the hospital.

Then, a car ran through the intersection from the left—too fast, no brake lights.

The sound that followed was deafening. Glass exploded inward. The world spun and then stopped in a tangle of twisted steel and white dust.

I threw both arms over my belly, curling as much as the seatbelt allowed, praying that if one of us had to survive, it would be my baby.

I fumbled for my phone with bloody fingers and dialled Cooper. It rang, but he didn't answer.

In that moment, I understood he had really abandoned me. Then I thought of one man who would never abandon me, even when I pushed him away.

I dialled his number.

“Daddy,” I choked when he answered. “I’ve been in an accident. I need you, Please.”

His voice came steady and immediate.

“I’m on my way. Hold on, Daisy. I’m coming.”

I stayed curled around my stomach, while the smell of gasoline and the sharp tang of blood filled the wrecked car.