My Daughter Wanted A New Father So I Let Her Chapter 2

Gwen was right, in a bleak, undeniable way. I truly had no friends here.

I had been in a long-distance relationship with Sasha back then. Desperate not to lose her, convinced we had a future, I left my familiar hometown, resigned from a job I loved. I was young, burning with a lover’s conviction, believing the ‘right person’ was waiting for me at the end of the road.

And for a time, we were deeply in love. We even had our beautiful daughter, Gwen.

When Gwen needed full-time care, Sasha refused to put her own career on hold.

“Marriage doesn’t have to mean only the woman makes sacrifices, right?” she’d said.

I heard the implied plea. Coupled with the fact that the new job I’d found in this city was objectively less significant than Sasha’s high-stakes research position, I decided to become her ‘support system’—her stay-at-home husband. I was content, believing that our happiness mattered more than my title.

That was, until Blake was transferred to Sasha’s lab. That’s when I watched our connection erode, day by day. It faded, it fractured. Even Gwen joined in, more than once asking me to step aside so Blake could be her father.

I stood on the curb of the empty street at 1 AM, waiting for a cab, dragging my suitcase behind me. The late-night breeze felt less desolate than my own heart.

I rented a small studio apartment. It was bright and faced the sun. Before, I would work on research materials and papers from home in the evenings. Just today, I’d received good news—I’d won a small, prestigious grant. The funding wasn’t life-changing, but it was enough to sustain me for a year or two.

I woke up this morning to a rare, delicious feeling of leisure. No immediate leap out of bed to the alarm clock, no mad dash to get Gwen ready for school. I looked in the mirror, shaved carefully, and styled my hair. I instantly looked healthier, more energized.

I even signed up for a fitness class. While running around the house and playing with Gwen kept me moving, I’d lost significant muscle mass. Other men were rushing to catch the morning subway to their corporate jobs; I was riding the city bus, fighting with retirees over the best produce at the market. Outsiders had whispered that I was 'eating soft rice'—a gold-digger. I never cared. I knew the truth: Gwen wouldn’t have lived such a pampered life on Sasha’s salary alone.

I cleared my head of those thoughts and started working on my résumé. I wanted to go back to work, to stand in a real lab, not just sit in front of a computer screen.

That afternoon, I treated myself to my favorite food: spicy fried chicken. Because I was always catering to their mild palates at home, we rarely had anything spicy. Now, biting into the tender chicken, it hit me like a rush. This was another small piece of my old life, gradually returning.

That night, Sasha called. Her voice was flat, typical of her professional tone.

“Listen, I’m calling about a box of sealed things of yours. I haven’t opened it. Give me an address, and I’ll mail it to you.”

I thought for a moment. “You can open it. It’s just useless junk I kept from when we were together. I don’t need it. Throw it out.”

Sasha hesitated on the line.

“Actually,” I added, cutting in, “if you find anything else of mine, just dispose of it. Don't bother calling again.”

I hung up. That box held old ticket stubs, notes, and silly gifts—all those insignificant things you keep when you’re building a life. They were just garbage now.

After a few successful interviews, I landed a position at a respected research corporation. They offered me a private lab for my own studies.

I was at the grocery store that afternoon after my shift. At home, I spent hours trying to invent new dishes to satisfy their picky tastes. Now, I needed to satisfy my own stomach.

As I pushed my cart, my phone rang. It was Gwen’s school.

“Mr. Ronan,” the teacher’s voice was strained, “I was wondering if you might have forgotten to pick up Gwen today? All the other children have gone home, and she’s the only one left.”