For a long moment, no one spoke.
Jonathan stood in the middle of the hallway, the envelope hanging loosely from his hand, his shoulders tense, his eyes fixed on Emerie's face.
“I'm asking for a chance," he said again, more quietly. “I know I don't deserve it. But I want to try. For her. For you."
Emerie's throat felt tight. “You think an envelope and an apology erase everything?" she asked. “You think knowing the number on a piece of paper suddenly makes you a father?"
He swallowed. “I know it doesn't erase anything," he said. “I know I was blind. I know I failed you. I know I wasn't there for Emma when it mattered most. I can stand here and list every mistake until my voice gives out, and it still won't be enough."
“Then why keep talking?" she asked, exhausted.
“Because I'm not aski
