Chapter 2 - The Man Behind the Drawing Lily's bedroom was warm and quiet.
A crescent-shaped night-light painted a soft golden glow across the walls.
Adrian stood beside the little bed, staring at his daughter.
She was three years old.
Three years of life he had missed.
Three years of first words, scraped knees, birthday candles, fevers, laughter, and bedtime stories.
He had watched everything through photographs.
But photographs had never prepared him for the sound of her breathing.
His hardened hands trembled.
The same hands that had ordered men killed now hesitated to touch a child's hair.
He gently brushed a curl from Lily's forehead.
She stirred.
Adrian froze.
But she didn't wake.
He took a folded photograph from his pocket.
It showed one of Lily's drawings.
Three figures.
Sarah.
Lily.
And a faceless man.
Adrian stared at it until his vision blurred.
“I’m here, baby,” he whispered.
Behind him, the floor creaked.
Sarah stood in the doorway.
“She wakes at seven.”
Adrian turned.
“What does she like?”
“Blueberry waffles.”
He smiled faintly.
“And?”
“Warm milk. One drop of honey.”
“Favorite toy?”
“Mr. Buttons.”
Adrian looked at the battered teddy bear beside Lily.
“I remember him.”
Sarah's eyes softened.
“You shouldn't.”
“No.”
He looked at Lily.
“But I remember everything about her.”
That night, Adrian sat in the armchair beside his daughter's bed.
He didn't sleep.
At 6:42 a.m., Lily opened her eyes.
She stared at him.
Adrian held his breath.
Lily slowly sat up.
She studied his face.
Then she pointed.
“Are you the wind man?”
A tear slipped down Adrian's cheek.
He smiled.
“No, sweetheart.”
May you like
He extended his hand.
“I’m your daddy.”
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