When I met my wife, her little girl was still in diapers. Years later, that same girl—now a teenager—looked at me one night and quietly asked, “Can I call you Dad again? For real this time?” It broke me in the best way. I’d been there through every scraped knee, every school play, every tear her real father didn’t bother to wipe away. But hearing her say that—after years of confusion, distance, and growing up—was the moment everything came full circle.
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