**Diary Entry**
Another late return from work, and I was exhausted. The car had been acting up all the way home, stuttering and stallingas if it knew its days were numbered. Soon, Id finally own the sleek new car Id been dreaming of for over a decade. The thought made me smile as I trudged up the stairs, imagining myself behind the wheel, cruising through the city. That dream was why Id sacrificed so much, why Id worked myself into the ground, taking every overtime shift going. I couldnt even remember the last proper holiday Id taken. The bosses appreciated my dedication, sure, but they rarely rewarded it. Why would they? They knew I wasnt going anywhere.
I lived on the outskirts of London, in a cramped flat left to me by my grandfather. My parents were up north, and we barely saw each other. Every visit ended with them naggingwhen was I going to settle down, start a family? As if that had ever been my priority.
The lift was brokenagainso I climbed the five flights, my legs heavy. Outside my door, I nearly tripped over what I thought was a drunk slumped in the dark. Then I flicked on my phones torch. Not a drunka girl, maybe twelve. The sudden light startled her awake. She scrambled to her feet, clutching a backpack, and something fluttered from her gripa photograph. Of me. I recognised it instantlytaken at a raucous party years ago, arms around mates I hadnt spoken to in ages.
“Hello,” she stammered. “II came to see you.”
I fished my keys from my pocket, pretending I hadnt heard. Who was she? What did she want? My mind racedthis had to be a setup. There were stories about kids being used in stings, traps laid for unsuspecting blokes. I scanned the hallway. No cameras. No police lurking behind doors. The whole floor was emptymost of the neighbours had long since moved out.
“Youve got the wrong person,” I said, unlocking the door.
“Wait! Ive nowhere else to go!” Her voice cracked. “You *are* Daniel Whitmore, right?”
I sighed. “Yeah. And?”
Her next words hit like a sledgehammer. “Then its true. Youre my dad.”
I burst out laughing. *Father?* No chance. I had no kidsnever wanted them. “Get lost,” I snapped. “Im calling the police if you dont leave.”
She didnt move. “Its too late! You cant just abandon me!”
I slammed the door, but her sobs seeped through the wood. Ignoring them, I boiled the kettle, stirring a stock cube into a mug. No appetite. Who was she? Why that photo?
Curiosity gnawed at me. I cracked the door openstill there, curled on the step. Defeated, I sighed. “Come in. But youre explaining *everything*.”
Over tea and stale biscuits, she told me her name was Lily. Thirteen years ago, her mum, Emily, had met me at a student festivala one-night stand I barely remembered. Emily had left that morning, heartbroken when Id brushed her off. Months later, she discovered she was pregnant. Shed raised Lily alone, never contacting meuntil now.
“Please,” Lily whispered. “Mums sick. She needs heart surgery. Weve got no one else.”
My stomach twisted. The dates lined up. And then I saw ita birthmark beneath her ear, shaped like a tiny star. Just like mine.
I spent the night wrestling with it. The money Id savedyears of scrimping, all for a car I didnt even *need* anymore. Who was I trying to impress? At dawn, I drove Lily to the station, slipping an envelope into her bag when she wasnt looking.
Three months later, I found them at my doorEmily, alive and smiling, and Lily, who flung her arms around me. “Thank you,” Emily whispered.
Turned out, I *did* want a family. Now Ive got oneand yes, I bought the car eventually. Just took a different road to get there.
