(Scarlett’s POV)


    There’s a knock at the door.


    I take a shaky breath and go to open it…


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    And find Jasper standing in my hallway, holding a small pharmacy bag and looking more


    uncertain than I’ve ever seen him.


    “I brought children’s ibuprofen,” he says quietly. “In case the Tylenol doesn’t bring her fever down fast enough. You can alternate them.”


    I step aside, letting him in. He moves carefully, like he’s afraid of spooking me, his eyes immediately finding Lily on the couch.


    <b>(</b><b>Jasper’s </b><b>POV</b>)


    The moment I see her, my heart breaks.


    Lily lies curled on the couch, her small face flushed with red, dark hair damp with sweat. She looks so fragile, so tiny, and every protective instinct in my body roars to life at the sight of her in pain.


    “Daddy?” The word is soft, confused, but it hits me like a sledgehammer to the chest.


    I freeze halfway across the room, my ears ringing with the word…


    Daddy.


    My daughter just called me daddy.


    “Yes, baby girl.” My voice cracks. “It’s me.”


    Her fever–bright eyes light up with joy. “You came,”


    “Of course I came.” I kneel beside the couch, my hands shaking as I reach out to touch her forehead. She’s burning up. “How are you feeling, baby girl?”


    “Sick. But I’m better now that you’re here.” She tries to sit up, and I gently help her. The simple trust in her words makes my chest tight with emotion.


    Such a sweet, beautiful girl. How did I ever get so lucky to be her father? She looks at me with such trust, such adoration, like I’m her hero, someone worth believing in.


    <Chapter 54


    But do I deserve it? After missing four years of her life, do I deserve her pure love?


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    I know I don’t. But now that I know she exists, I can’t go back to the past. I can’t pretend she doesn’t exist. I’ll spend the rest of my life to be worthy of her love.


    “Let’s see what we can do about this fever, okay?” I pull the ibuprofen from the bag, checking the dosage on the back. “When did youst give her the Tylenol?”


    Scarlett hovers nearby, her arms crossed defensively. “About thirty minutes ago.”


    “Good. We can give her this in a few hours if the fever doesn’t break.” I turn back to Lily, smoothing her hair away from her face. “Are you hungry, sweetheart? Sometimes when we’re sick, we don’t want to eat, but it helps us get better.”


    She shakes her head weakly. “Just thirsty.”


    “How about some water? Or maybe some juice?”


    “Apple juice?” Her voice is so hopeful it breaks my heart.


    “Apple juice it is.” I look up at Scarlett. “Kitchen?”


    She nods, still watching me like she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing. I understand the feeling. Four years ago, I wouldn’t have known the first thing about taking care of a sick child. But I’ve spent thest three years preparing for this moment, reading every parenting book I could get my hands on.


    In the kitchen, I find a small cup and dilute the apple juice with water–full–strength juice can be too acidic for a sick stomach. When I return, Lily’s eyes track my every movement.


    I


    “Here you go, baby.” I help her sit up, holding the cup steady as she takes small sips. “Just a little at a time, okay? We don’t want to upset your tummy.”


    She nods seriously, like I’ve given her the most important instruction in the world.


    “Daddy<i>?</i><i>” </i>She looks up at me with those eyes–my eyes–so trusting and innocent. “Will you stay until I feel better?”


    The question hits me square in the chest. I nce at Scarlett, who’s gone pale.


    “If your mama says it’s okay,” I say carefully. “I’d love to stay.”


    Scarlett looks torn, her protective instincts warring with something else I can’t identify.


    “Please, Mama?” Lily turns those fever–bright eyes on her mother. “I like it when Daddy’s here.”


    And just like that, her resolve crumbles. “Okay. He can stay.”


    Relief floods through me so intensely I have to blink back tears.


    “Thank you,” I mouth to Scarlett, then turn back to Lily. “What would you like to do, sweetheart? Watch a movie? Read a story?<b>” </b>


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    “Can you tell me about when I was born?” The question catches me off guard. “Mama tells me stories sometimes, but I want to hear yours.”


    My throat closes uppletely. I don’t have a*********s about when she was born. I wasn’t there. I didn’t even know she existed.


    But I see Scarlett step forward, her expression softening just slightly.


    “Why don’t I tell you both that story?” she says quietly.


    And for the next hour, as Lily’s fever slowly breaks and she drifts in and out of sleep, Scarlett tells us about the day our daughter came into the world. About how she cried the moment she was born, but calmed down the instant she was ced on her mother’s chest. About her tiny fingers and perfect little toes.


    I hang on every word, memorizing details I should have witnessed firsthand.


    When Lily finally falls into a peaceful sleep, her small hand still clutched in mine, I look up to find Scarlett watching me with an expression I can’t read.


    “You’re different,” she says quietly. <fn8041> Official source is find[?]ovel</fn8041>


    I brush a strand of hair away from Lily’s face, marveling at how natural the gesture feels. “I had four years to get my act together. To figure out what I had lost, and what kind of father I


    wanted to be.”


    “Ha<i>…</i><i>” </i>Scarlett scoffs, and the scorn in her tone isn’t lost on me.


    And honestly? I deserve that.


    I look down at Lily, still sleeping peacefully with her small hand in mine. Her fever has broken, leaving her skin cool and soft. She looks so much like Scarlett when she sleeps–the same long eyshes, the same peaceful expression.


    Four years. I’ve missed four years of moments like this.


    The weight of it crushes down on me all at once. Her first word. First steps. First day <i>of </i>preschool. The night terrors and scraped knees and bedtime stories–all of it happened


    without me.


    “I should have been there,” I whisper, my throat tight with regret.


    < Chapter 54


    “What?”


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    “Her first word. Her first fever. Everything.” I trace the back of Lily’s tiny hand with my finger, memorizing the feel of her skin. “I should have been the one taking care of her when she was sick. Should have been there to kiss her scraped knees and read her bedtime stories.”


    Scarlett goes very still. “Jasper-<b>” </b>


    “I can’t even me you for leaving.” The words tear out of my chest. “I was so arrogant, so sure you’de crawling back the minute things got hard. I didn’t take it seriously until you were already gone.”


    I remember that morning like it was yesterday. Coming home to find divorce papers, Virginia telling me not to worry, that Scarlett was just being dramatic. I’d thrown the papers in the trash without even reading them properly.


    What kind of husband does that?


    “I thought I had time,” I continue, my voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I could fix thingster, when I was ready. When it was convenient for me.”


    Lily stirs in her sleep, making a soft sound that goes straight to my heart.


    “Ha! Convenient for you. Not me. It was always about what was convenient for you. But there was noter, was there?”


    I smile bitterly, knowing nothing I say will get to her anymore.


    Scarlett haspletely closed off from me, and for the first time in my life, I feel fear.


    Yes, fear.


    I fear she might not love me anymore.


    Violet Moon


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    < Chapter 55