Don't talk to Strangers

"Then… who is our daddy if it's not them? Is it you?" my daughter asked Dave.

I could see the way her eyes searched his face—uncertain and hesitant… but still hopeful. Like a part of her was silently wishing Dave would say yes.

Dave, probably caught off guard, scratched the back of his neck, his usual composure slipping for the first time. 

His gaze briefly flickered to me, and I could see the inner debate playing out behind his eyes.

"Uhm… no," he said carefully. "Your real dad isn't one of us." 

His voice turned more serious, and suddenly, I felt a knot of anxiety twist in my stomach.

"But… I do know who he is."

My heart sank.

Seriously?

I immediately stepped in before he could say another word.

"Sweethearts, how about we head home now, hmm?" I said, trying to sound as calm and cheerful as I could, hoping to steer the conversation away before it spiraled any further.