Strength After Him

Chapter 13 : Shadows of Her Father

“Mom, but I do not have a daddy. "You haven’t told me anything about my daddy.” She looked so sad, tears almost spilling from her eyes.“Mom, if what I said made you feel sad, please I’m sorry. I won’t talk about having a daddy again.” I pulled her into my arms, holding her tightly.

I sat her down, searching for the right words, but nothing came. My mouth felt heavy, my chest tight. I knew I had to tell her the truth, at least a part of it. At that moment, I truly felt what my own mother must have gone through years ago, when I asked the same questions and longed for a father figure I never had. I reached for Ivy’s hand. “My princess…” She nodded. “Yes, Mom.”

I told her a little about her father, keeping it simple. I avoided mentioning the unkind parts, the way he had abandoned us. I never wanted to talk about that. I wrapped it up quickly: “Your father… he traveled.”

She smiled and said she hoped to see him again. When she asked me when he would return, I shook my head. “I have no idea,” I said. “He’s going to be away for a very long time.” I could only share more details about George when Ivy was older and could truly understand life, I thought.

“Alright, Mom." I’ll patiently wait for Dad’s return,” Ivy said, her eyes bright, a small, hopeful smile tugging at her lips. I hugged her tightly, feeling the tension of the day melt away. Together, we left the studio and headed back home.

Week after week, I worked tirelessly, determined to deliver Charles’s project on time. The deadline was creeping closer, and despite all my efforts, it felt like I hadn’t made any real progress.

Ivy had gone to spend time with Ms. Maria, and she went to school from there, giving me a chance to focus on work. That afternoon, while I was at the studio, my personal phone rang from an unknown number. I hesitated, thinking it might be the same mysterious caller from before, and didn’t pick up.

Just then, my receptionist walked into the office. “Ma’am, Mr. Charles has been calling you,” she said.

I froze for a moment, my heart skipping a beat. Charles? Already? I hadn’t expected him to call this soon. “And not on my personal number… How did he get my personal contact?” I asked her, frowning.

“I did, ma’am,” she admitted.

“You did what?!” I snapped, eyes wide. “How dare you give my personal number to a customer without my permission?” I flared up, pacing slightly.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” she stammered. “He requested it… he said it was personal.”

“Go and get my number back from him,” I said, my tone sharp, but even as I spoke, I knew it was probably impossible for her to do, but I was so pissed.

She nodded nervously and hurried out, phone in hand, clearly unsure how to handle it. I sank back into my chair, rubbing my temples. There was no way she could convince Charles to forget my number.

Before long, my phone rang again. The screen showed an unknown number, but I knew it was Charles. I hesitated, my fingers hovering over the answer button. Taking a deep breath, I picked up. “Hello, Ms. Ivy,” his calm voice came through. “I hope I’m not disturbing you, but I wanted to discuss the project further.”

I gripped the phone a little tighter, trying to steady my voice. “It’s fine,” I said, though my chest still felt tight.

“I just wanted to go over a few details about the project,” he continued, calm and measured. His voice had that effortless authority that made it impossible to sound annoyed. I nodded, forcing myself to focus on the conversation, even as a part of me still fumed about him having my personal number.

“All right, there’s no problem,” I said, taking a steadying breath. But I would like our conversations about business to happen only on the business line. It’s not nice calling me here to talk about the project, I might mix things up and get confused.

There was a brief pause at the other end, then he spoke, calm as ever. “That’s perfect." If that’s what you want, when it’s business-related, I’ll make sure to use your business line.”

I smiled, even though he couldn’t see me. At least now I knew he understood exactly what I meant.

“Alright then,” he continued, his voice calm but firm, “about the project…” Just like that, the conversation shifted back to business, and I quickly straightened in my chair, ready to take notes. After he was done discussing the project, his tone shifted slightly.

“And how is Ivy doing?” he asked warmly. “I’ll make good on my promise and check up on her next week, with the gift I mentioned.”

I hesitated, my silence stretching for a moment before I finally spoke. “That won’t be necessary, Ivy is fine,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.

But he insisted, his words firm yet gentle.“I had already promised her. Children remember such things, and I wouldn’t want to disappoint her.”

But I didn’t respond. Instead, I pulled the phone slightly from my ear, whispering to myself," Why is he showing so much interest in my daughter?" My chest tightened. I am not ready for all this. The last thing I wanted was to stir up Ivy’s longing for a father. I’ve spent years keeping that part of her life untouched.

His voice broke through the silence. “Hello? Hello?” He called several times before I finally took the phone back. “I’m here,” I answered softly.

He continued, “Why don’t we hang out next weekend?" At least, get to know each other better.”

I opened my mouth to object, but before I could finish, his words landed heavy: “Not for you, Ava." But for Ivy.”

My grip on the phone tightened. My pulse quickened, torn between anger and confusion. “I’ll be far too busy with your project,” I said, my tone firm, “I can’t afford to set it aside for a hangout.”

“But I do not mind, and it doesn’t stop you from doing your job,” Charles replied smoothly, his voice calm, almost too calm. “But if you insist you want to concentrate on the project before having a hangout… who am I to say otherwise?" It’s your job, and I am glad you do not joke with it.”

The line sat heavy in the air long after the call ended. For a moment, I just stared at my phone, a shiver running down my spine. His words seemed harmless, even considerate, yet something about the way he said them left me unsettled, as though there was more behind them than he was letting on.