Three days after Emma’s birthday, Kassie was editing photos from a weekend wedding when a new message from Daniel appeared on her phone. She’d been checking f*******: more frequently since their brief exchange, though she wasn’t entirely sure what she was hoping to find.
*I hope this isn’t overstepping, but I keep thinking about Emma’s party. Would it be okay if I asked what she wished for when she blew out her candles?*
Kassie stared at the message for a long time. It was such a normal parent question—the kind of thing any father might ask about his child’s birthday. But Daniel wasn’t any father. He was the father who had walked away, who had given up his rights, who had been absent for every birthday before this one.
Yet something about his curiosity felt genuine rather than intrusive
