It couldn’t be her after six years.
And yet it was.
Across the street, he spotted Ella hurrying the three boys into a small gray Uber. The car merged into traffic and vanished.
Daniel stood there, frozen, like someone had punched a hole straight through his chest.
He climbed back into the SUV in a haze. The driver glanced at him in the mirror, concerned, but Daniel said nothing. All he could see were those three little faces—faces that looked far too much like his own.
He hadn’t seen Ella in six years. Not since the night he left without a goodbye. No call. No message. Nothing. They had been fine—happy even—but Daniel had “big plans,” a business deal he believed would change everything. He assumed Ella would understand. He assumed there would be time later to make things right.
There wasn’t.
Back in his luxury Chelsea apartment, he tossed his jacket onto the couch, poured a drink even though it wasn’t even five, and paced in circles. Memories hit him one after another—Ella laughing, the way she looked at him when he talked about his future, the nights she held him when he came home exhausted.
And those boys…
How could they possibly look so much like him?