I’ve never had visitors. So when Rachel knocked and said someone was waiting for me, I wasn’t expecting to see him—Ronnie, the stepfather who disappeared after my mother died. He smiled like we were family, called himself Dad, and offered me dinner. I should have walked away. Instead, I followed him.
The pages of my textbook blurred as my eyes moved from note to note, formula to formula, and underlined section to underlined section. Midterms were approaching, and I didn’t have time to get distracted.
Suzy, however, had other plans.
“You wouldn’t believe it,” she said, lying on her bed, twirling a lock of her blond hair around her fingers.
“He actually ordered for me. Without even asking. Can you believe that?”
I mumbled something uninviting, staring at my book.
Suzy let out a deep sigh. “Sophie, you’re the worst spectator ever. Can you at least pretend to be outraged?”
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I smiled, finally looking up. “I don’t know, Suzy. Maybe he thought it would take you too long to decide?”
She jumped, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at my face. “Rude!”
I dodged it with a laugh. “I’m just saying, I’ve seen you take twenty minutes to choose a smoothie flavor.”
Before she could come up with a cheeky reply, there was a knock at the door, cutting the moment short.
Suzy raises an eyebrow. “Are you waiting for someone?”
I shake my head. No one ever came looking for me.
Rachel, a girl from down the hall, poked her head in. “Hey, Sophie. You have visitors.”
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I blinked. “A visitor?”
Rachel jerked her thumb toward the hallway. “Yes. He’s standing over there. Does he look… familiar?”
My stomach turned.
Confused, I stood up and walked past her, my heart pounding against my ribs.
And then I saw it.
Ronnie.
He stood near the entrance, hands in the pockets of a worn leather jacket, rocking slightly on his heels as if he wasn’t sure he should be there.
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His graying hair was slicked back, his crooked smile was the same as I remembered it—too easy, too familiar, too practiced.
My feet felt like they were made of lead.
Rachel leaned in. “Do you know him?”
I swallowed, my throat suddenly going dry. Yes, I knew him.
And now, after all these years, after disappearing when I needed him most… he was here.
I stared at him, still trying to understand how he—the man who had disappeared from my life—was suddenly standing in front of me, smiling as if we had some kind of connection.
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“Ronnie?” I repeated, my voice higher this time. “What are you doing here?”
His smile widened. “Come on, kiddo. What’s this ‘Ronnie’ thing?” He placed a hand on his chest, mocking the hurt. “We’re family. Call me Daddy.”
The word hit me the wrong way, curling up in my stomach like spoiled milk.
I squared my shoulders. “We’re not a family.”
His expression didn’t change, but I saw the flicker of something behind his eyes—annoyance, perhaps, or frustration.
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But just as quickly, he erased it with the same wry smile.
“Still stubborn, huh?” He reached out and patted my shoulder as if he had the right to touch me.
“Let’s make up for lost time. It’s been too long.”
Too long?
I clenched my fists. He had disappeared after my mother died.
He left me to fend for myself, while my grandmother did what he should have done. She paid for everything—my food, my schooling, my survival.
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And now here he was. Acting like he hadn’t abandoned me.
I forced a breath through my nose. “Why now?”
His smirk never wavered. Instead, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small package wrapped in tissue paper.
“I have something for you,” he said, holding it out.
I hesitated before picking it up, my fingers stiffening as I unwrapped the thin layers.
Inside was a pink pen—the kind with a tiny bunny on top, ears flopping like it had been plucked from a cheap souvenir shop.
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I let out a small laugh, but there was no humor in it. “Are you kidding me?”
Ronnie tilted his head, amused. “What?”
I held up the pen, shaking it slightly. “I’m not ten years old anymore.”
His face twitched—just for a second—then he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Ah, come on, Sophie. It’s a joke! Relax.”
A joke.
A father who abandoned me and thought he could come back into my life with a cheap pink pen and a forced smile.
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I should have left. I should have told him to leave.
But I didn’t.
Because as much as I hated to admit it, something about the sudden attention… felt good.
I crossed my arms, studying him. “Why are you really here?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he put an arm around my shoulders, as if we were old friends.
“You know what?” he said, his voice overly cheerful. “Let’s party. Your favorite restaurant is still in town, right?”
I stiffened at the contact, but he just squeezed my shoulder, as if he belonged there.
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I hesitated. “Ronnie-“
“Dad-” he corrected, his tone sharp for the first time.
The air has changed.
“Come on,” he coaxed, the forced charm slipping back into place. “Say it. Dad.”
The word stuck in my throat.
I gritted my teeth. “Ron… Dad. It’s expensive.”
He winked, his smile too easy, too smooth. “Don’t worry, kiddo. Tonight, I’m paying.”
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I should have said no.
Instead, I nodded.
The restaurant was exactly as I remembered it—dim lights, soft music humming in the air, and the rich scent of butter and garlic clinging to the air like an old friend.
For the first time in years, I relaxed.
Ronnie ordered for both of us, insisting I try the lobster bisque, saying it was “too good to pass up.” I barely protested. He was paying.
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He poured on the charm, filling the conversation with stories and easy laughter.
“So, are you still that bookworm?” he asks, cutting his steak. “I remember you used to walk around with your nose buried in a novel. It drove your mother crazy.”
I smile. “I still read. But mostly for school now.”
“Smart girl,” he said, nodding his head in approval. “You take after me.”
I almost choked on my drink.
Take after him?
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The man who had disappeared for years and suddenly wanted to play the role of a father?
But I let it go. I let myself believe it was real.
Maybe, just maybe, he was trying.
For once, I let my guard down. I allowed myself to appreciate him.
By the time dessert arrived—a huge chocolate cake drizzled with warm caramel—I was stuffed.
I leaned back, laughing at some stupid story Ronnie told me about getting lost on the subway, shoveling away the last few bites of my cake.
And then…
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He asked the question.
“Do you talk to your grandmother a lot?”
I blinked, my stomach tightened.
“What ?”
Ronnie took a slow sip of his drink, looking at me too closely now.
“Your grandmother, my dear,” he said, keeping his tone light. “How is her health?”
His words sent shivers down my spine.
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I put down my fork, suddenly no longer hungry. The warmth from earlier was gone, replaced by something sharp.
I forced myself to shrug. “We talk sometimes,” I said cautiously. “She’s fine.”
Ronnie smiled too widely, leaning back in his chair.
“She’s very generous, huh? Paying for your school like that?”
That’s it, it’s done.
The change.
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I felt it in my bones – the way the conversation turned.
“I guess,” I said, keeping my tone neutral.
Ronnie tapped his fingers on the table. “You have to have a lot of money to do that, right?”
I didn’t like the way things were going.
“Ronnie-“
“Dad-” he corrected again, his tone a little more tense.
I clenched my jaw. That game again.
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I forced a nod. “R-Dad… what is this about?”
He let out a dramatic sigh, rubbing his hands together as if preparing to deliver bad news.
“Listen, darling, I’ve gotten myself into a little bit of a bind,” he said. “A business investment—a really promising thing, but, uh, I need a little help to stay on track.”
I stared at him.
“You need money.”
Ronnie spread his hands, as if the word itself was offensive.
“Not money, just… a small loan. From your grandmother.”
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A high-pitched laugh escaped before I could stop it.
“Do you want a loan from Grandma?” I repeated, incredulous.
Ronnie’s jaw twitched for a second. “Don’t say it like that. It’s temporary. I just need a little help. She’s got the money. She won’t even miss it.”
“Then why don’t you ask him yourself?”
Ronnie’s expression darkened for half a second before he resumed his easy smile.
“We had… communication problems,” he said, his voice forced into something pleasant.
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That was an understatement.
“You,” I said slowly, watching her reaction, “want me to convince my grandmother to give you money?”
Ronnie leaned forward, completely abandoning the charade.
“Sophie. She loves you. She’d do anything for you.” His voice was soft, too soft. “Just talk to her, sweetheart. She won’t say no.”
I felt bad.
Of course. It wasn’t about me.
This dinner, this sudden fatherly act, was simply to get Grandma’s money.
I should have noticed sooner.
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I should have left right away.
But then…
Ronnie crossed the table and took my hand.
“Please,” he said, his voice lower now, calmer, as if sealing a deal. “Trust your father, okay?”
My fingers tightened in his hand.
Trust.
A word that means nothing coming from him.
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And yet…
I nodded.
“Okay,” I whispered.
The next day, I sat across from my grandmother, Laura, twisting my hands in my lap.
The familiar smell of chamomile tea and freshly baked bread filled the air, but it couldn’t calm the unease bubbling in my chest.
She poured me tea, moving with the same quiet grace she always had. Laura was steady, unwavering, a presence that had anchored me since my mother’s death.
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“You look troubled, darling,” she said, handing me a delicate china cup. “What’s troubling you?”
I hesitated, my fingers gripping the teacup too tightly.
“I… need money,” I finally said.
Laura raised an eyebrow, stirring her tea without breaking eye contact. “Oh?”
I forced a small laugh. “Just a few… debts. For school. I’ll pay them off, I swear.”
She took a slow sip, then set her cup down with a soft clink.
“Sophie,” she said softly. “Why don’t you tell me the truth?”
I felt sick.
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“What?” I tried to sound surprised, but my voice wavered.
Laura sighed, watching me closely. “This is about Ronnie, isn’t it?”
I froze.
“How did you…”
“Because it’s not the first time.” She shook her head, tired sadness in her eyes. “The only difference is that this time, he sent you instead of coming himself.”
I felt bad.
All the previous warmth has drained from the room.
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“But… he said…”
“He always says,” she interrupted, her voice firm but not mean. “He always promises. And he always disappears as soon as he gets what he wants.”
Tears burned my eyes.
I looked down at my hands, ashamed.
Laura reached out her hand, took it gently, squeezing it with quiet strength.
“You have a good heart, Sophie. Too good.” She sighed. “You were willing to give up your education, your future, for this man.”
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I bit my lip hard, the weight of my choices weighing on me.
“You remind me of your mother,” Laura continued. “She would have done the same thing. And that’s why I won’t let you waste your life for him.”
I swallowed. “You’re… not angry?”
She smiled, the kind of smile that held years of understanding. “No, darling. But I’m giving you a choice.”
Laura stood up, walked over to her desk, and took out a checkbook.
“I’ll give you the money—because it’s yours, not his. But whether you give it to him or not is up to you.”
I sat there, trembling, as the truth settled deep into my bones.
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Ronnie would never change.
And for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel guilty about saying no.
A few days later, I met Ronnie in a small cafe.
As soon as he saw me walk in, his face lit up, that same old smile plastered on his face as if he had already won.
“See? I knew I could count on you, kiddo,” he said, holding out the envelope I was holding.
I kept it, just one more second.
His fingers tightened.
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“If you tell me the truth—what this money is really for—I’ll give it to you,” I said, my voice calm and collected.
His smile faltered.
“Come on, darling. It’s just business. You don’t need to worry about the details.”
I didn’t move.
“Tell me the truth, Ronnie.”
For a second, just a second, his mask slipped.
A flicker of annoyance, a tightening of his jaw. Then, just as quickly, he put it back in place.
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But it was enough.
He withdrew his hand.
And I understood.
Without another word, I stood up. I turned around. I walked to the bank.
This time, I chose my future.
And I never looked back.
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