I followed him. I watched him meet up with his friends and actually run, just like he said. I was beginning to feel foolish—until I saw a little girl run up to one of the men yelling, “Daddy!” But it wasn’t Nick—it was Jake, the one with the messy divorce. Relief flooded me. That night, I confessed everything to Nick: the call, my suspicions,
even following him. He laughed and explained Jake had borrowed his phone to call the school when his died—explaining the mystery. It was all a misunderstanding, but it taught me something important: trust is fragile, but communication and honesty can bring it back stronger. Now, every Saturday, Nick jokes, “Off to visit my secret family!” And I just roll my eyes and make him coffee.