Chapter 7 - MAYA
Daniel did not hug Maya when he learned she was probably his daughter.
That was one of the smartest things he did.
He wanted to.
He wanted to collapse the seven missing years into one gesture.
Instead he asked:
“Can I sit here?”
Maya nodded.
They were in Hannah’s apartment after police and child-services staff finished documenting the Noah incident.
Maya sat at a tiny kitchen table drawing circles on a paper napkin.
Daniel sat across from her.
“You know what your mom told me?”
“Yes.”
“How do you feel?”
Maya shrugged.
“I knew your name.”
Daniel swallowed.
“Did you know where I was?”
“Mom said you didn’t want us.”
He closed his eyes briefly.
Hannah looked away.
Maya continued:
“But then she said maybe Vanessa lied.”
Daniel asked:
“What do you want me to call you?”
“Maya.”
“Okay.”
“What do I call you?”
That question hurt.
Daniel answered carefully.
“Daniel is okay. Dad is something you get to decide later, if ever.”
Maya studied him.
Then asked:
“Is Noah my brother?”
“If the test confirms what we think, yes.”
Maya nodded.
“He’s nice.”
Daniel almost laughed through the ache in his chest.
“He is.”
“He signs fast.”
“He gets excited.”
“I know.”
Then Maya said:
“Vanessa doesn’t like when he signs.”
Daniel went still.
“How do you know?”
Maya shrugged.
“She kept pushing his hands down.”
That detail had not appeared in the first version Noah gave him.
Daniel would later learn Vanessa often stopped Noah from signing in public because she found it “attention-seeking.”
Daniel had missed it.
Again.
Two children.
May you like
Different betrayals.
Same woman controlling whether they were allowed to communicate.
