Years after a brief relationship, you pass away unexpectedly following a long illness.
A week later, Niall hears a knock on his front door.
Standing there is your seven-year-old daughter with a social worker.
She has nowhere else to go.
And inside her backpack is a letter addressed to him.
You never told him she was his.
—-
The knock came just after sunset.
Niall frowned as he opened the door.
A little girl stood there clutching a pink backpack.
Beside her was a woman holding a folder.
"Mr. Horan?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry to arrive like this..."
She hesitated.
"I think you should read this."
She handed him an envelope.
The handwriting made his stomach twist.
He hadn't seen it in years.
It was yours.