The night before his graduation, my dad found a baby in his bike basket — 18 years later, the woman who abandoned her showed up at my ceremony
But then I cried again.
And that was it.
He took off his jacket, already soaked, and wrapped it around me, tucking the edges in as best as he could. His hands were shaking, but not from the cold.
“Okay,” he whispered, though there was no one to hear him. “Okay. I’ve got you.”
He didn’t go home.
Instead, he turned the bike around and headed back toward the campus clinic, pedaling harder than he had before, the rain now a backdrop to the urgent rhythm of his heart.
That was how our story began.
Eighteen Years Later
Leave a Comment