I didn’t answer immediately, keeping my gaze fixed on the papers and plans in front of me. The truth was too sharp, too raw. “It is… difficult,” I admitted finally, my voice low. “I am Marga’s father. That is what matters. Everything else… must be secondary.”

She nodded, placing a reassuring hand on my arm. “I know. And he’s not trying to replace you. You’re still her father, Ezekiel. You always will be.”

The words should have calmed me, but instead, they made the ache ...