I remember the first time that I saw her. She was cute, she was pretty and most important, she was mine. The one thing in the world that loved me no matter what I did, no matter what happened. And back then, she was exactly what I needed. In the broken world that I called my home, she was the voice of reason. We named her Daphne. But even that happiness couldn't last forever. I loved her, but I couldn't help but wonder if she was worth the tension she caused between Angelo and I. For the first two years of her life, tension stirred behind her back. She had a loving mother, and a great father, but her family was shattered, divided. Because of what we saw every time we looked her in the face. Her eyes, her mouth, everything about her screamed that she wasn't a Vasquez. And Angelo noticed. So, he jumped to the most obvious conclusion. That she wasn't his. And he was right.
But she wasn't mine either.
It all started when she was born. Actually, that's not quite true. We'd been building a bomb between us for a long time, but it was her birth that lit the fuse. But once she was born, that was the first concrete thing that he could blame me for. But he gave me the benefit of the doubt, resolving to trust me because he didn't have a real reason not to. But once she was three that changed. That was when she contracted meningitis. When the illness took her hearing with it, he was sure that she wasn't his. My promises wouldn't settle him by then, and he needed some real proof. So what did he do? He gave her a DNA test. That's when he knew for sure that him and the baby weren't family. So he left. And he didn't come back for 13 years. Once he left, I was lost. I knew that there was no other possible father. So, I got my DNA tested as well. And that's when I realized that I wasn't related to the child that I had spent the last few years of my life with.
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