One day, Lily’s father was brushing her curls back before daycare. The next, he was gone. Postcards trickled in at first—blurry shots from Bali with a girlfriend half his age, grinning beneath a tan that made me sick. Then nothing. He ignored calls, ducked court notices, and treated child support claims like spam calls.

It was as though he’d erased us—ripped out a chapter of his life and thrown it away. I stopped waiting for apologies or explanations.

Instead, I worked.