She nodded. “We figured it out when we read the letters. But we didn’t know how to tell you.”
I looked at her. And suddenly… things made sense. The way she carried herself and looked at me sometimes, as if there was something unspoken between us.
“You knew?”
Then I pulled her tightly into my arms.
“I don’t need a DNA test.”
Mia let out a broken laugh. “I know.”
I pulled back and gestured for the other eight to join us, and we shared a huge hug!
“You’re all my daughters,” I said. “That doesn’t change anything.”
And it didn’t.
“You’re all my daughters.”
I folded my first love’s letter carefully and set it on the table.
Mia wiped her eyes. “I thought you’d be more shocked.”
“I am,” I admitted. “I just… don’t feel lost.”
That seemed to surprise them.
One of the younger ones, Nelly, asked, “You’re not upset?”
“No,” I said honestly. “I think I spent enough years being upset about things I didn’t understand.”
“I thought you’d be more shocked.”
We’d settled together at the kitchen table by then when I explained, “At the end of the day, nothing important changed,” they exchanged glances.
“What do you mean?” Mia asked.
“I raised nine daughters. I showed up every day and made the choices I did because I wanted to, not because I had to. Finding out you’re mine… that doesn’t add anything new. It just explains why it always felt right.”
“What do you mean?”
Mia’s face softened. “Dad, you’re the best.”
For the first time that night, the tension in the room eased.
Dina spoke up quietly. “We were scared. We didn’t want things to change.”
They didn’t. If anything, something had finally settled into place.
After dinner, we moved into the living room.
But things felt different then. Lighter. Like something that had been quietly waiting in the background had finally been said out loud. Mia sat beside me. Not across the room. Not at a distance. Beside me.
“We were scared.”
She leaned her head slightly against my shoulder, the way she used to when she was younger.
For a second, it caught me off guard. Then I let myself relax into it.
“You ever wonder what would’ve happened if she told you back then?” she asked.
I thought about it. “Yeah, I used to.”
“And now?”
“Now I think… we ended up where we were supposed to.”
Mia was quiet for a moment. Then she smiled. “I like that answer.”
“You ever wonder what would’ve happened if she told you back then?”
Later, Lacy brought out dessert, something they’d picked up on the way.
“You didn’t think we’d show up empty-handed, did you?” she said.
“Wouldn’t put it past you,” I joked.
We cut into it together, passing plates around, talking over each other again. The way we used to. The way we always did when things felt right.
At some point, someone asked, “So, what do we do now?”
“Wouldn’t put it past you.”
