After spending almost a year immersed in a remote construction endeavor within the Canadian Rockies,
Ethan Calloway was finally making his journey back home.
He had meticulously tallied each passing day, eager to reunite with Rachel, his cherished wife,
his high school sweetheart and the undeniable love of his existence.
Ethan had consistently perceived himself as an uncomplicated individual, embracing traditional values.
Rachel was the sole woman he had ever adored—or been intimately involved with—
and in his perception, that reality was immutable.
Therefore, when his aircraft touched down and Rachel was absent from the arrival gate,
Ethan surmised it was merely a scheduling discrepancy.
Likely detained at her workplace.
He dispatched a message to her: “Landed. Eagerly anticipating seeing you.”
No reply was received.
An hour later, Ethan found himself on the stoop of their inviting suburban residence,
duffel bag clutched in hand.
The interior lights were illuminated, yet the dwelling felt… hushed.
Too hushed.
The moment he stepped into the kitchen, he froze instantly.
Resting in the center of the table was a baby nestled within a bassinet.
A newborn, delicately swaddled in a blanket adorned with a floral pattern,
blinking up at him as if he had materialized from thin air.
Ethan remained there, utterly astonished—
until his gaze fell upon two sheets of paper positioned beside the infant.
The initial note was inscribed in a bold, unfamiliar handwriting:
“You’ve had your enjoyment. Now assume responsibility for your offspring.”
The second communication caused his stomach to plummet even further.
It was from Rachel.
Ethan,
This infant appeared on our doorstep yesterday accompanied by that note.
I had always harbored suspicions of your infidelity during those excursions,
yet I never pressed the matter—because, frankly, I was not precisely loyal myself.
But to burden me with someone else’s child?
That is where I establish my limit.
I have initiated divorce proceedings.
I am no longer here.
Do not attempt to locate me.
P.S. I waited until I observed your Uber’s arrival before my departure.
Rest assured—the infant is not unattended.
Savor your existence.
I intend to savor mine.
Ethan slowly lowered himself into a nearby chair, feeling overwhelmed,
his heart throbbing intensely.
“What transpired?” he murmured.
A gentle, slightly gurgling coo drew his focus.
The baby extended a small, plump arm in his direction.
Instinctively, Ethan reached out, and the diminutive hand clasped onto his finger.
He gazed intently at her.
“I suppose it’s just you and me now, isn’t it?” he whispered.
A sudden, unpleasant odor permeated the confines of the room.
“…Oh dear.”
A frantic search led him to a diaper bag positioned on the floor.
Inside was a chaotic assortment of feeding bottles, baby bodysuits, and—
mercifully—diapers.
He consulted Google for instructions on how to perform a diaper change,
discovering a cheerful woman on YouTube demonstrating the process on a lifeless doll.
The reality proved to be considerably more chaotic.
This infant squirmed, kicked vigorously, and somehow managed to get faeces on her own foot—
and on his shirt as well.
Nevertheless, Ethan succeeded in the task.
Upon completion, he offered her a soft smile.
“You’re a little girl,” he murmured, finally comprehending the situation fully.
“Well, little one, I may not possess extensive knowledge about raising a daughter,
but I can certainly impart the skill of changing a tire.”
He observed her for a prolonged moment.
“You require someone. I believe I do as well.”
As she gazed up at him with astonishingly large eyes,
something profound shifted within Ethan.
“Alright then. I am your father now.”
In the weeks that followed, Ethan formally bestowed upon her the name Mira
and initiated the process for custody.
He gave her his surname: Calloway.
Mira Calloway.
He determined her birthday would be the day he discovered her—
the day his life underwent a complete transformation.
And over the subsequent two years, Ethan meticulously attended to every need for Mira:
midnight feedings, appointments with the pediatrician, daycare pickups.
She became the undeniable focal point of his entire existence.
However, on Mira’s second birthday, everything seemed poised to unravel.
A woman rang his doorbell.
She was statuesque, with bleached-blonde hair,
lips that were overly accentuated, and features that appeared plastically perfect.
“I have come for my child,” she declared, stepping onto his front lawn
as if she held dominion over it.
Ethan narrowed his eyes.
“Pardon me?” he questioned.
“My daughter,” she stated, her tone exhibiting annoyance.
“I left her here a full two years ago.
It was an accidental occurrence—I had intended to leave her with my significant other.
He resided on the adjacent street, but I was… not in a state of sobriety.”
“You abandoned her,” Ethan retorted sharply.
“And now you believe you can simply reclaim her?”
“Well,” she responded, shrugging her shoulders.
“That boyfriend—Bobby—just secured a contract with a major league hockey team.
So yes, I require her now.”
“Require her? For what purpose?”
The woman smirked.
“He will provide child support payments.
I will receive a portion.
Simple arithmetic.”
Ethan decisively slammed the door shut in her face.
But a mere week later, the summons arrived.
Cherie Vaughn was contesting Ethan’s adoption of Mira in family court.
Suddenly, Ethan found himself subjected to intense scrutiny—
visited by social caseworkers, interrogated by legal representatives.
His acquaintances were contacted.
His employer was reached out to.
Cherie had enlisted the services of a flashy legal team.
Seated beside her in the courtroom was a lanky man with piercing ice-blue eyes
that strikingly mirrored Mira’s—
Bobby, without a doubt.
Cherie wept profusely throughout her testimony,
asserting she had left Mira with Ethan during a “confused period” in her life.
Bobby offered little commentary—
he merely grunted and confirmed he “likely was the biological father.”
When the judge inquired if he was prepared to raise a child,
Bobby simply shrugged.
“I mean, she will be with her mother for the majority of the time.”
“And you will bear all financial responsibilities?” the judge clarified.
Cherie interjected, “Precisely! He just signed a multi-million dollar contract.
Mira deserves that money!”
The judge leaned forward in her seat.
“And what is the child’s complete name, Miss Vaughn?”
Cherie blinked.
“Well… she will bear Bobby’s surname, naturally.”
Ethan rose to his feet.
“Your Honor, if I may… Her name is Mira Calloway.
She has borne my surname for two years now.
I have raised her since the very day she entered my life.
I did not plan it—but I wholeheartedly chose it.
She is my daughter in every sense that truly matters.”
From the rear of the courtroom, Mira caught sight of Ethan standing
and wriggled excitedly in the arms of the social worker.
“Daddy!” she shrieked with delight, extending her arms toward him.
The courtroom fell into an absolute stillness.
The judge offered a slight smile.
“Well, that unequivocally resolves the matter for me.”
She brought her gavel down firmly.
“I hereby grant full and permanent custody to Mr. Ethan Calloway
and dismiss all claims brought forth by Miss Vaughn and Mr. Reed.”
That evening, Ethan and Mira celebrated in their backyard beneath the summer night sky.
She chased after fireflies, her tiny legs wobbling adorably through the lush grass.
“Stars!” she giggled with pure joy, capturing one in her small palm.
Ethan chuckled softly.
“Close enough,” he murmured.
But as he gazed at her—the little girl who had unexpectedly entered his life
and transformed everything—he realized she was, without question, his brightest star.
And he would never, ever let her go.
