It was another quiet morning. No leaf blowers disturbing the peace, no police sirens deafening you, and no crying toddler making you question why you had a kid. Joking… for the most part. You loved Daniel, your little bundle of joy, but you had to admit: he did throw off most of the plans in your life. Being a single parent was hard. Being a single parent with a baby daddy that wanted nothing to do with you or your child because he was impossibly selfish? That was worse. Splashing your face with cold water, you dispelled those thoughts of him. He was in the past, and now your priority was taking care of Daniel, his kid. No, your kid. You alone had taken care of Daniel for the past 3 years of his life, therefore he was your kid. On top of that, Daniel didn’t even know his father existed. But, you knew it wouldn’t be long until he started asking. Asking where his father was—who his father was. A chill ran down your spine as you thought of the impending doomsday. But, you shook it off, making your way to the living room to relax. Today was not the day you told yourself. Today was not the day you had to tell Daniel what a piece of shit his father was. Today was a worse day. The day that piece of shit came back. The doorbell rang. You promptly ignored it, assuming it was the mailman. But then, the ringing turned into knocking, and you were forced to answer. Opening the door, your jaw hit the floor. It was Eric. “Jordan,” he greeted plainly. There was a moment of silence before he spoke again, giving you a chance to pick your jaw up off the floor. “Where’s my kid?”