Page 42 of Fake Wife for Dr. Secret Daddy

I parked, hurrying to the other side of the car to open her door.

When I lock the doors and turn to meet her, I am surprised that she is calm and collected, very different from yesterday's teary-eyed, enraged Winnie.

I start to move when she holds my hand and gives it a firm squeeze.

“Whatever happens in there, you know we're in this together, Ted. I appreciate all you've done for me these past few days, and I want you to know we can share our burdens and problems from now on.”

I squeezed her hand in return, thankful for the words she had just spoken.

This was what had drawn me to her in the first place: her unpredictability, her ability to shield her worries and move on.

It had been there the day fate had drawn us together: her birthday.

I found this ability terrific: the art of bottling up her problems and being positive.

We navigate to the receptionist and then claim our names on the appointment card.

The red-haired gum-chewing receptionist asks us to wait a bit, and then she tells us we will be attended to soon.

I sit on a chair at the far end of the room, my hand around Winnie. The receptionist stares at me while she chews the gum loudly, and I can tell she wants only Winnie to be attended to so she can execute her “gum-chewing flirting” Prowess on me.

Giving Winnie a huge smile, I squeeze Winnie’s shoulder fondly.

“You’re next.”

Opening and closing my sweaty hands in nervousness, I reach the door that says, “Matron,” letting Winnie lead the way.

“Good morning, matron.” We chorus in unison and then take turns shaking the chubby, white-haired matron.

“Good morning. Your complaints about finding your daughter came to me the day before yesterday, and I suggested you make an appointment because things need to be done professionally here. I'm sorry for all the stress securing the appointment might have put you through.”

My feet hurt in my shoes, and I know they'll hurt even more when I remove them. I rub my clammy hand on my trousers, trying to drown out the nervousness that had seemed to take control.

“If you'll kindly lead the way, sir. We can start by checking in the adolescent dormitory. What age did you say she would be by now again, sir?”

I let Winnie answer the question, focusing instead on putting my trembling hands in my pocket as we make our way out of the office.

I cannot help but wonder what would happen if we did not find them, if all our efforts were in vain. Envisioning my father's deceitful face, I knew I would let my rage answer that question.

When my eyes settle on Isla, my knees buckle at the sight, and air leaves my guts for a second.

I breathe hard, and I do not know if it is from relief that I have found my child or from the fear of the unknown.

Winnie is beside her instantly, cuddling her and weeping all at once, releasing all the pent-up emotion from yesterday.

Unable to control myself, I threw my arms around them. It still tastes a little funny in my mouth when I call them family, but yes, it's my family, and I engulf them in a bear hug.

I stare at Isla, realizing she possesses my eyes and has that fierce brown hair only Winnie seems to have.

I feel many emotions, everything, everywhere, all at once, and I struggle not to shed a tear. She is beautiful, a priceless jewel that Winnie and I have brought.

When everybody is collected, the Matron invites us back to her office.

Seated again in the Matron's office, I kiss Winnie on the forehead, squeezing her hand in delight.

“I am happy that you have found your daughter. But I need to tell you a few details concerning her–”

“How come her name is still Isla?” I ask the first question that pops into my head.

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