Too late I Am Carrying His Child

Chapter 4: The Silence Between Us

When Victoria stepped into the house, the familiar creak of the wooden floorboards beneath her heels echoed softly through the quiet rooms. A soft morning hush clung to the air like dust. The scent of old coffee and lemon wood polish drifted from the kitchen, mingling with the faint scent of rain on the wind.

The living room was as it always was—timeless, unmoving, like a snapshot of a memory she hadn’t chosen to preserve. There, in his usual spot on the worn-out beige sofa, sat her father, Daniel Bernal. The morning newspaper was open in his lap, his reading glasses low on his nose, one hand absently cradling a mug of now-cold coffee.

For a moment, Victoria hesitated at the door, her hand still resting on the doorknob. Angel’s words were still fresh in her mind: “Maybe your dad isn’t trying to replace your mom. Maybe he’s just trying to feel whole again.”

Whole.

The word stuck in her throat like a bone.

She didn’t know if she was ready to have this conversation again—not after how harsh she had been the last time. But the weight of everything left unsaid was piling up like dust in the corners of their home. It was time.

"Hey, Dad," she said, her voice soft but steady. A gentle offering.

Daniel looked up from the paper, his tired eyes softening instantly. The weight on his brow seemed to lift for just a moment. “Hey, honey,” he replied, voice warm with relief.

Victoria walked further into the room, the tension in her shoulders slowly unwinding. She leaned down to kiss his cheek, and he gave her a quick one-armed hug before setting his paper aside. “You look exhausted. Long day?”

She nodded, slipping off her coat and tossing it over the arm of a chair. “Yeah. It’s been…a week.”

“Well, you’re just in time. I was thinking of making breakfast. Your favorite—eggs with tomatoes and buttered toast,” he added with a hopeful smile.

“You’re cooking?” she asked, her lips tugging upward. “You mean you’re actually trusting yourself with fire this early in the morning?”

Daniel chuckled, a genuine, belly-deep laugh that momentarily washed away the years in his face. “Don’t insult me. I’ve been practicing. I’m a changed man.”

Victoria followed him into the kitchen. The space still bore touches of her mother—floral decals on the canisters, her favorite apron still hanging by the fridge. Even five years later, her mother’s presence was stitched into the fabric of the home. That was part of why this change felt like betrayal.

Daniel worked quickly, clumsily whisking eggs while humming off-key to the radio. It was endearing, even funny, but it was also deeply sad. He was trying so hard to be both parents. Always had.

“You don’t have to do all this by yourself, you know,” Victoria said gently, leaning against the counter.

He turned slightly, pan in hand. “I know. But it makes me feel useful. And I like doing things for you.”

“It’s not about the eggs, Dad,” she said, voice quiet but pointed.

He stilled. The air in the room shifted, thickening with the weight of what neither of them wanted to say aloud.

Victoria crossed her arms. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About… Regina.”

Daniel put down the spatula. His face went blank for a beat, as if bracing for impact.

“And?” he asked carefully.

Victoria hesitated. “I’m not saying I’m okay with it. I’m not even saying I’m ready to have someone else in our lives. But… I understand why you want someone.”

He blinked at her, eyes glimmering with a mix of surprise and something else—guilt? Hope?

“I don’t want you to think I’m trying to erase your mother,” he said quickly. “That’s not what this is about.”

“Then what is it about?” she asked. Not accusatory—genuinely curious.

Daniel leaned back against the counter and folded his arms. “It’s about waking up in a house that feels too quiet. It’s about coming home and not having anyone to talk to. It’s about seeing you grow up and realizing you won’t be here forever—and that when you leave, this place will feel like a tomb.”

Victoria’s breath caught.

“You’re not replacing her?” she whispered.

Daniel shook his head, eyes glassy. “No. Your mother was my whole world. And when she died, I tried to keep going for you. Because I knew you needed someone to stay strong. But that doesn’t mean I stopped missing her. I still talk to her in my head every morning. I still sleep on my side of the bed.”

Victoria swallowed hard.

“I’m tired, Vicky,” he admitted. “I’m tired of being alone. And I don’t want you to feel guilty for that.”

She looked away, blinking fast. “I don’t want someone to sit in her chair. Or decorate the Christmas tree with us. Or give me advice on relationships like she knows me.”

“She wouldn’t,” he said gently. “She’d find her own place here—if you let her.”

Victoria pressed her palms against the counter, staring down at the smooth surface.

“Regina has a son,” she said suddenly. “I didn’t know that until today.”

Daniel nodded. “David. He’s a good kid. Just graduated last year. He’s… polite, responsible. I think you’ll like him.”

Her stomach flipped for reasons she couldn’t quite name.

“I didn’t expect that,” she said, trying to keep her voice neutral. “A whole other person coming into our lives. It’s not just Regina—it’s him, too.”

“I know it’s a lot,” he admitted. “I didn’t want to spring it on you. I was going to tell you sooner, but... I was scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of losing you too,” he said softly. “Of you shutting me out.”

Victoria closed her eyes. The silence between them stretched, but it wasn’t cold. It was filled with shared grief, hard truths, and an unspoken understanding.

When she opened her eyes again, Daniel was flipping the eggs. The toast popped from the toaster behind him, and the mundane sounds of breakfast resumed as if nothing had changed.

But everything had changed.

After they sat down to eat, the air was lighter, though not free of tension. Victoria poked at her eggs. “You used too much salt.”

Daniel shrugged. “Can’t be perfect all the time.”

She smiled faintly. “Mom would’ve made fun of you.”

“She would’ve,” he said with a chuckle. “Then she’d take over and kick me out of the kitchen.”

They laughed quietly, and for a brief second, Victoria could almost feel her mother’s presence in the room—not as a ghost, but as a memory that didn’t demand sorrow. Just remembrance.

After breakfast, Daniel started picking up the plates while Victoria sipped the last of her coffee. She watched him move, noticed the slight stiffness in his back, the lines around his eyes deepening when he thought she wasn’t looking.

He was aging.

He had carried them through loss, heartbreak, rebuilding. And he had done it without asking for much in return.

Maybe it was okay to let someone new in. Not to replace what was lost, but to bring in something different. Something healing.

“I’d be willing to meet her,” Victoria said suddenly.

Daniel turned around, stunned. “Really?”

“I’m not promising anything. But… if she makes you happy, I’d like to see why.”

His face softened, eyes full of unshed tears. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Victoria stood and walked over to him. “But she doesn’t get Mom’s seat at the table.”

Daniel smiled. “No one ever will.”