“You won’t believe this.”
There was silence.
Then she asked, “Has he ever treated you badly?”
“No.”
“Has he been a good father?”
“Yes.”
“Then maybe you need to listen to him.”
“I can’t trust this man.”
I stared at the evidence on the desk. “I knew him as Niye when we were kids. I never put two and two together. I always thought it was his nickname or something. He’s been working on fixing my eyes for more than two decades.”
I heard the front door open. Footsteps hurried down the hall.
Nigel stopped in the doorway.
“Lyd, I need to go. He’s here. I’ll update you.”
I ended the call and glared at Nigel.
Footsteps hurried down the hall.
“I didn’t follow you to pressure you,” he said. “I just needed to know you were safe.”
“You hid your true identity from me.”
“I know, love, I’m so sorry. The thing is, I recognized you that first day at the hospital,” he admitted. “When you said my voice sounded familiar, I knew. I’ve carried that guilt since we were kids. Becoming an ophthalmic surgeon wasn’t random. I did it because of you. I searched for your name for years.”
I was stunned.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Then why hide it?” I asked.
“Because I was ashamed,” he said. “And because I fell in love with you. I was terrified you’d refuse both me and the surgery if you knew.”
I looked at the research again. Years of work. Years of regret.
“You should’ve told me,” I said quietly.
“I know,” he whispered. “I was wrong.”
I stepped closer and studied his face, really seeing him for the first time. The exhaustion. The fear. The hope.
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