Luna perched on the kitchen counter, her laughter bright and infectious. It was a sound I had cherished since the day we brought her home four years ago. She had been shy at first, but one day, she laughed, and in that moment, all the years of longing for a child melted away. Luna was ours, and I couldn’t have imagined feeling any more peaceful around her.

But later that day, everything changed. Sarah called me into the living room, her voice urgent and shaky. She sat on the floor, pale and trembling, with Luna’s adoption file spread out in front of her.

“Dan, look,” she whispered, pointing at a photo. My heart dropped as I recognized my name in the section for Luna’s biological father, alongside an old picture of my ex, Rachel, who had vanished from my life years ago.

“What does this mean?” Sarah’s voice was filled with disbelief.

“I didn’t know she was pregnant,” I stammered, the realization crashing over me. Luna wasn’t just our daughter—she was my daughter, biologically.

The weight of that truth was suffocating. Each time Luna laughed, it felt different, a heavy reminder of a hidden past. Sarah tried to reassure me, but I was caught in turmoil.

Days later, I found Rachel through social media. We agreed to meet at a café, and as I sat there, I was filled with anger.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I demanded when she arrived. “You kept my daughter a secret from me.”

Rachel looked away, guilt washing over her. “It wasn’t like that,” she pleaded. “You were just starting your life. I thought it was for the best.”

“Best for whom?” I shot back. “You didn’t give me a chance to be a father!”

Rachel’s tears mirrored the guilt I felt, but her excuses only fueled my frustration. “You say this like it’s some cosmic joke! If I’d just known about Luna…”

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” she whispered.

“Yeah, well, you didn’t. And now, I don’t know how to look at her without feeling everything’s changed,” I said, leaving before she could respond.

When I got home, I felt the weight of my encounter. Sarah was washing dishes while Luna laughed in the living room. I hung my jacket, still reeling from my meeting with Rachel.

“How did it go?” Sarah asked cautiously.

“She thinks she did what was best,” I replied, frustration simmering. “But it changes everything for me. Every time Luna laughs, it’s a reminder of everything I didn’t know.”

“Dan,” Sarah said softly, taking my hand. “Luna’s your daughter. She always has been. This doesn’t change anything.”

“It changes everything for me,” I replied, my throat tightening.

“We can’t tell her yet,” Sarah urged. “She’s too young.”

“But we can’t hide it forever,” I countered.

“Then we’ll tell her when she’s ready,” Sarah said firmly. “For now, we just keep loving her.”

As Luna’s laughter filled the room again, I froze. That same joyful sound now felt heavy, a weight I never asked to carry.