"Dad," Sara called out the moment she saw him. She rushed over and embraced him, catching him off guard.
It was already surprising that he was outside; the hug was an unexpected shock. He needed time to process the fact that his big little girl was right in front of him. When was the last time she had visited? Jordan couldn't recall. She rarely called, so her coming by unannounced was startling.
"It took you long enough to remember you have a father," he said with a warm smile, making her giggle. "Let's go inside."
Jordan, a man in his mid-fifties, looked much younger than most people his age. He had no children of his own; his wife, Shelly, Sara's mother, had died young, leaving behind her daughter and husband. Jordan never saw a reason to remarry and single-handedly raised his stepdaughter. Now, she had grown into a woman who reminded him so much of his late wife.
"How have you been, Dad?" Sara asked, setting her bag beside her on the couch as she sat down.
Jordan sat across from her with a warm smile, glad to see his girl again. All his plans for the day had been set aside to spend time with her, as he didn't know when she would come by again. He could visit her in the city, but he didn't want to inconvenience her.
"You can see for yourself," she replied, chuckling.
He was right. Aside from a few gray strands of hair, which were a testament to his age, he looked as good and healthy as ever. The same could be said for the house. Nothing had changed; it didn't even show signs of aging because it had been well maintained.
From the furniture to the paint and decorations, everything held memories of her mother, who had decorated it long ago. The house felt as warm as always, just like the man who lived in it.
"As young as ever," Sara remarked, and he chuckled.
The atmosphere was harmonious as they chatted, but she could still see the longing and loneliness in his eyes whenever her mother's name came up. Even after so many years, he found it hard to move on, still holding onto his wife's memory, especially since she had come into the marriage with another man's child. But he had proven to be different.
"Dad," she called, noticing he seemed distracted, staring out the window. She looked outside, wondering what had captured his attention, but saw nothing.
"Give me a moment, okay?" he said, standing up. He walked to the windows, closing any that were open and drawing the curtains.
Sara frowned at this, beginning to worry if someone was after her father or if he was in some kind of trouble. But knowing her father, she was sure he would never do anything to harm himself or anyone close to him. So what was going on?
Looking around the house, she finally noticed something she had overlooked before: all the photos of her and her mother had been removed from the living room. This was unusual for him; he had once almost taken down her mother's photos because they haunted him, but Jordan had calmed her, reminding her that those pictures were the only things connecting them to her and preventing her memory from fading.
"With the pictures around, we would never forget what she looked like," he had said to her younger self before she relented and let the photos stay where they were.
"Dad… what's wrong?" she asked, standing up to approach him, but he waved a hand, signaling her not to worry. "Dad?"
Jordan sighed at her question, knowing she wouldn't stop pressing until he explained. He was aware of her vivid imagination and didn't want her thinking the worst.
"I prepared lunch earlier; would you like some?" he asked, hoping to distract her while he sorted out his thoughts and words.
"Yes, but only after we talk," Sara replied, and he sighed audibly. "Are you in trouble, Dad?" she asked directly this time.
"No. You're overthinking it," he said, rubbing the space between his brows as silence hung in the air, waiting for him to continue. "It has something to do with your…" Jordan trailed off. As much as he knew he was her biological father, he didn't want anyone taking her away from him. But she deserved to know.
"Dad…?" she called when he lost his train of thought.
"Right," he snapped back to their conversation. "As you know, Shelly was pregnant with you when we got married," he said, and Sara nodded. "Your… father was never dead, and he's looking for you. His people have come here several times these past few days, and…" He stopped when he saw the anger in Sara's expression.
"Calm down and let me finish, Sara," Jordan urged. "They didn't threaten me or anything of that sort. They just asked about your mother and you. I told them Shelly is no longer with us…" His tone shifted when he said that, and Sara understood why.
He didn't like talking about her mother, not because he couldn't stand it, but because it triggered painful memories. Watching his wife die in an accident had traumatized him, and he was still learning to cope with it.
"And what about me?" Sara asked. While she felt sympathy for the painful memory, she couldn't pity him. Her mother's death had affected her just as much.
Jordan remained silent, creating a tense atmosphere between them. He averted her gaze, while Sara wished he would just look at her.
"Dad…" Sara said, her tone and eyes filled with unspoken urgency. She felt a deep desire for him to respond, though she wasn't entirely sure what she was hoping for.
She had never really cared about her father because the man never cared about her either. Jordan may not be her biological father but he played that role to perfection and he was the only man she recognized as her father so why was she so agitated now?