At thirty, I had what most people would call the whole package.
A lovely daughter, a secure marriage, and a cozy downtown apartment.
I believed everything was going well until that Tuesday evening when my world came crumbling down.
“Mommy, can we go to the park?” Grace inquired that day, her beautiful brown eyes pleading with me while hugging her favorite stuffed rabbit. “Please? I want to show Mr. Hoppy the new swings!”
The park was only a few blocks from our apartment, and Grace talked the entire way there about her day at daycare.
We spent over an hour at the park, with Grace completing the slide at least twenty times before I gave her a few last pushes on the swings.
When I eventually convinced her that it was time to go home, the late afternoon sun had begun to set.
When we arrived at our floor, we noticed the first signs that something was awry.
The door to our flat was slightly open, which was unusual. Jordan was always concerned about security.
As soon as Grace disappeared down the corridor, I went straight to our bedroom. But the image that met me made my heart stop.
Jordan’s side of the closet was entirely empty. His dresser drawers hung open, empty. His laptop was gone from his desk, as was the framed photo of us from our honeymoon that usually sat next to it.
My hands shook when I saw the piece of paper on his pillow. The note was brief and written in Jordan’s distinctive scrawl.
I will return only if you fulfill ONE REQUEST.
My initial thought was to contact Jordan’s cellphone.
With Grace playing in her room, I walked to our living room, listening to the rings until his voicemail answered.
Following an hour of stillness, I began calling his pals.
Finally, with my hands shaking, I dialed his parents’ phone number.
“He’s… he’s gone. I came home and all his things were gone. He left a note saying he’ll only come back if I fulfill some request, but I don’t know what he wants. I can’t reach him anywhere.”
“We haven’t heard anything from him,” Robert’s gruff voice came on the line. “This isn’t like him at all. Have you called the police?”
“Right now. We’re coming over.”
I stopped the call and contacted 911, my voice cracking as I detailed the circumstances.
Within thirty minutes, two officers arrived at our door: Officers Martinez and Chen, according to their credentials.
I told Officer Chen everything while he examined the apartment.
They took down all of the facts, but their expressions indicated that there was nothing they could do. Jordan was an adult who had departed on his own accord.
The following three days were a blur. The doorbell rang on the third day.
A simple brown gift on our welcoming mat.
The package contained a DNA test and a note. I instantly pulled out the letter and read it.
Dear Kathryn
I know this may come as a shock, but I need to know the truth. I’ve always suspected something.
Recently, I was looking through some old college photos of yours, and I saw your best friend from back then. As I looked at the picture, I couldn’t help but notice the striking resemblance between her and Grace. Same hair color, same eyes, same nose.
I started wondering if Grace was not really my daughter.
I’m sorry, but I need you to do a DNA test for Grace. I can’t continue without knowing.
If you send me the results and they confirm I’m her father, I’ll return. If not, I can’t come back.
Please, send the results to the address below.
I went ahead and completed the DNA test. Not because Jordan desired it. Because I wanted to show how wrong he was.
When the DNA results arrived, I was not sh0cked. Of course, Jordan was Grace’s father. I never had any doubts.
I sat down at my laptop and started typing.
Dear Jordan,
Here are your precious DNA results. Congratulations! You’re officially Grace’s biological father. But you know what? It doesn’t matter anymore. A real father wouldn’t abandon his daughter over a paranoid suspicion. A real husband wouldn’t disappear and leave his family in panic. A real man wouldn’t hide behind notes and packages instead of having an actual conversation.
You wanted the truth? Here’s the truth: We don’t need you. I don’t want someone who could throw away eight years of love and trust because our daughter happens to look like my old friend. Grace deserves better than a father who could doubt her very existence. I deserve better than a husband who could think so little of me.
Don’t bother coming back. We’re done.
-Kathryn
I then blocked his phone number, contacted a lawyer, and began the divorce proceedings.
