The next morning, just as we came back to the park to continue searching, Harry appeared just where he was. He was holding a small box.

“Harry!” I cried, scooping him up in my arms. “Oh my God, where have you been? We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

“I’m okay, Mommy,” Harry said calmly. “He took me.”

I pulled back, staring at him. “Who took you, sweetie? What happened?”

Harry looked up at me, his blue eyes serious. “God.”

My breath caught in my throat. “God? What do you mean, Harry?”

“He was nice. He bought me ice cream, and we played soccer,” Harry explained, holding up the small box. “He gave me this.”

I stared at the box, then at Harry. I didn’t know what to think. The police, who had followed me to the park, knelt down beside Harry.

“What does God look like, son?” one of them asked gently.

“He had blond hair,” Harry said. “And he had a scar, like a star, on his face.”

The moment Harry mentioned the scar, my world stopped. A star-shaped scar, near the ear, on his face. It was a scar I knew all too well—Michael’s scar. The one I used to trace with my fingers when we were together, back when I believed in forever.

As I stood there, holding Harry close, my mind raced back to the time when Michael and I were inseparable. We met in college, fell in love fast, and I thought we’d be together forever. But everything changed one night.

My best friend, Lisa, told me she had slept with Michael. She claimed it was a mistake, that it meant nothing, but it shattered me. I couldn’t look at him the same way again. When I found out I was pregnant, I couldn’t bring myself to tell him. I was too hurt, too betrayed. So, I left. I told him I had lost the baby, broke up with him, and disappeared from his life.

But now, as I looked at Harry, I wondered if I had made a terrible mistake. What if Michael never cheated? What if Lisa had lied? The thought made my stomach churn. Had I been running away from something that wasn’t even true?

The next day, my questions were answered in a way I never expected. There was a knock on the door. I felt a chill run down my spine as I opened it. Standing there was Michael. He looked almost the same, but there was something different about him. His eyes were full of shock, and something else I couldn’t quite place. Regret? Guilt? I wasn’t sure.

“Emily,” he said, his voice soft, almost broken. “I can’t believe it’s you. Harry… he’s mine, isn’t he?”

I felt the words catch in my throat. I wanted to be angry, to slam the door in his face, but I couldn’t. All I could do was stare at him, my heart pounding in my chest. “What are you doing here, Michael? How did you find us?”

“Harry gave me your address. Emily, please, just listen to me,” Michael said, stepping closer, his voice desperate. “I never cheated on you. That night with Lisa, it never happened. She set me up. She wanted to be with me, but I turned her down. She couldn’t take it, so she drugged me and staged the whole thing. I didn’t even know what happened until later, but by then, you were gone. I looked everywhere for you, but it was like you vanished.”

My mind spun. Could it be true? Could I have been wrong this whole time? I looked into Michael’s eyes, searching for the truth, but all I found was pain. Pain that mirrored my own.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Michael asked, his voice breaking. “Why didn’t you let me be part of his life?”

“Because I didn’t trust you,” I whispered, tears welling up in my eyes. “I didn’t think you deserved to know.”

Michael looked at me, his expression full of sorrow. “I can’t change the past, Emily. But I want to be here now, for you and for Harry. Please, let me prove it to you. Let me be his father.”

Over the next few weeks, Michael kept his word. He spent time with Harry, slowly building a bond with the son he never knew he had. I watched them together, my heart slowly starting to thaw. The anger and resentment I had held onto for so long began to fade, replaced by something else—a cautious hope.

One evening, after Harry had gone to bed, Michael and I sat together on the porch, the cool night air wrapping around us. “He’s so happy with you,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe… maybe I was wrong about a lot of things.”

“We both made mistakes,” Michael said gently, reaching out to take my hand. “But we have a chance to make things right now. For Harry, and maybe even for us.”

I looked at him, feeling a warmth in my heart that I hadn’t felt in years. Maybe, just maybe, we could rebuild what was lost.