Chapter 13: Blood Doesn't Lie

The clock in the waiting room read 11:47 PM. Finally, Dr. Martinez emerged from surgery, still in his scrubs, but his smile told me everything I needed to know before he even spoke.

"The surgery was successful," he said, and I felt Mikel's hand briefly squeeze my shoulder before he caught himself and pulled away. "Emma's stable. We were able to stop the internal bleeding, and the transfusion worked perfectly. Mr. Sterling's blood was indeed a perfect match."

I closed my eyes and sent up a prayer of thanks to whoever was listening. My baby was okay. My brilliant, stubborn, beautiful girl was going to be alright.

"When can we see her?" Mikel asked, his voice hoarse from exhaustion and relief.

"She's in recovery now. She should wake up within the hour, but I want to prepare you both: she's going to be disoriented. The anesthesia affects children differently, and she may not remember what happened."

"But she'll recover completely?" I needed to hear it again.

"She'll need to remain here for a week, possibly two, for observation. She sustained a significant head injury, and we want to monitor for any complications." Dr. Martinez looked serious. "There's also something else. Emma's blood work revealed some markers that suggest she may need ongoing monitoring. Nothing immediate to worry about, but she should have both parents involved in her long-term medical care."

Both parents. Those words hung in the air between Mikel and me like a bridge I wasn't sure I was ready to cross.

Twenty minutes later, we stood outside Emma's recovery room. I felt nauseated. Not from fear for Emma – Dr. Martinez had assured us she was stable. But because in a few minutes, my daughter was going to meet her father for the first time, and I had no idea how this would unfold.

"Bella," Mikel said quietly, "if you'd prefer I wait outside while you—"

"No." The word came out sharper than I'd intended. "She needs to understand why you're here. She's been asking questions about her father, and after everything that's happened..." I took a deep breath. "She deserves to know the truth."

We entered the room together. My heart ached seeing Emma looking so small in the hospital bed, her dark hair spread across the white pillow, machines beeping softly around her. But her eyes were open, focused on the doorway.

"Mommy!" Her voice was scratchy but strong. "I knew you'd come. I was telling the nice nurse all about you."

I rushed to her bedside, careful not to disturb the IV, and kissed her forehead gently. "How do you feel, sweetheart?"

"My head hurts a little, but it's not too bad. The doctor said I was very brave." Emma looked past me to Mikel, who was standing near the door. "Who's that man, Mommy? He looks sad."

I glanced at Mikel. He was struggling to contain his emotions, his hands clenched at his sides, staring at Emma like she was the most precious thing he'd ever seen. It took my breath away.

"Emma," I said carefully, "this is someone very special. Someone who's been waiting a very long time to meet you."

Emma studied Mikel with that intense curiosity she applied to everything new. "Are you the man from my dreams? The one with dark hair who looks like me?"

Mikel's breath caught. He took a step closer. "You dream about me?"

"Sometimes. You're always far away, and you look sad. Like you're searching for something." Emma shifted slightly and winced. "Are you searching for me?"

"Every day for five years," Mikel said quietly, his voice breaking. "Emma, I'm your father."

I watched my daughter's expression transform. Surprise, then wonder, then the brightest smile I'd ever seen.

"Really? You're my real daddy? Not my maybe-daddy?"

"Your real daddy," Mikel said, moving closer to the bed. "If that's alright with you."

Emma's smile grew even wider. "I knew it! I told Mrs. Patterson at school that my daddy was probably a prince who lived far away, and she said maybe he was just busy doing important things. Were you busy doing important things?"

Mikel looked at me, and I saw five years of regret and pain in his expression. "I was busy being foolish," he said honestly. "I should have been here with you and your mother all along."

"Well, you're here now," Emma said matter-of-factly. "That's what counts. Can you sit next to my bed? I want to see if you really look like me."

Mikel glanced at me for permission. I nodded. He sat down beside Emma, and I watched my daughter study her father's face like she was conducting a scientific experiment.

"You have the same eyes as me," she announced. "And the same chin. Mommy says I got my stubborn chin from somewhere—I guess it was you!"

"Definitely from me," Mikel said, his voice thick with emotion. "What else would you like to know about me?"

"Everything!" Emma said immediately. "What's your favorite color? Do you like to read? Can you cook? Do you know how to braid hair? Mommy's not very good at braids, and Uncle Lucas is even worse."

The questions poured out, and I watched Mikel answer each one with patience and joy. His favorite color was blue. He loved to read, especially newspapers. He could make decent pancakes but terrible scrambled eggs. And no, he didn't know how to braid hair, but he'd love for Emma to teach him.

"What about hugs?" Emma asked suddenly. "Are you good at daddy hugs? I've never had a daddy hug before."

Mikel looked at me again, and I saw tears in his eyes. "I don't know," he said. "I've never given a daddy hug before. Maybe we could learn together?"

Emma stretched out her arms, careful of the IV, and Mikel embraced his daughter for the first time since she was newborn. I watched them, seeing all the similarities I'd tried not to notice for five years. They both closed their eyes when concentrating. They both had that same determined chin. And they both approached new experiences with careful wonder.

"That's a very good daddy hug," Emma pronounced when they separated. "I think you'll get even better with practice."

"I hope so," Mikel said softly. "Emma, I want you to know that even though I wasn't here before, I thought about you every single day. I have a room in my house just for you. I've been reading stories, hoping I could read them to you someday."

Emma's eyes widened. "A room just for me? What color is it?"

"Pink. With white furniture and a bookshelf full of princess stories."

"I love princesses! But I like the ones who rescue themselves, not the ones who wait around for help."

Mikel smiled like she'd said the most wonderful thing in the world. "Those are the best princesses. Strong and brave, just like you."

They talked for another hour. Emma asked rapid-fire questions, and Mikel answered each one, growing more confident with every exchange. I watched my daughter fall in love with her father, and despite all the complications between us, I couldn't bring myself to regret it. Whatever I felt about Mikel, Emma deserved to know this love, to know her other half.

Finally, Emma began to fade. The medication and exhaustion were catching up with her.

"Daddy?" she said sleepily. "Will you be here when I wake up tomorrow?"

Mikel looked at me, and I saw the question in his eyes. I nodded slightly.

"If your mother says it's okay, I'll be here," he said.

"Good. And Daddy? Can you stay at our house while I'm getting better? I want to practice daddy hugs, and I want to show you all my drawings. I made lots of pictures for my maybe-daddy, but now they can be for my real daddy."

My heart stopped. Emma was asking for exactly what I'd been trying to prevent for five years: Mikel Sterling being part of our daily lives.

But looking at my daughter's hopeful face, and at Mikel's longing expression, I realized that what I wanted was less important than what Emma needed. And she needed her father.

"We'll work something out," I said. "The most important thing is for you to get better."

"I'm already getting better," Emma said. "I have my mommy and my daddy, and tomorrow I get to tell everyone at school that my maybe-daddy was real all along."

As Emma drifted off to sleep between us, holding both our hands, I looked at Mikel across her small form. We were connected now in a way we hadn't been since she was born. Not as former lovers, not as adversaries, but as parents who loved this remarkable child more than anything else in the world.

Whatever happened between us, Emma would always be our bond. The question was whether that connection would heal us or destroy us.

Looking at my daughter's peaceful face, surrounded by medical equipment but smiling in her sleep, I knew I was about to find out.