Justin bristled, hands clenching. “I didn’t know how to do it, Lila. I was scared.” But the excuse collapsed the moment it left his lips. Lila stood. “We were scared too,” he snapped. “And she stayed. She fought for us every damn day. You don’t even deserve to speak her name.”
“She worked night shifts, cleaned houses during the day, and still made it to every school play,” Lila said, voice tight. “She skipped meals so we could eat. She sold her wedding ring to pay rent and school fees. You left her with chaos—and she turned it into a family. Alone.” Lila continued.
Justin couldn’t fight the helplessness rising inside of him. ‘I know I did wrong Lila, but you should at least listen to me. I am your father after all! At least give me a chance!” He pleaded and begged. But Lila just stared at him with disgust and contempt in her eyes.
“You don’t deserve a second of our lives,” she finished. Her hands were shaking, but her eyes were dry now—furious and clear. “You think we owe you something because your blood runs in our veins? No, Justin. Blood isn’t what makes you a father. Choices do.”