Bentley's POV
Now that everything was over—settling down in my apartment, my parents knowing about my relationship, and the internet focusing on the current trends—I decided it was time to return to my Damian, explain my snobby attitude, and tell him I love him.

I opened the door, dragging my black travel bag. My leg hit something. Narrowing my eyes downward, I saw a brown basket. A baby lay quietly in it, staring at me with big hazel eyes.

"What the—" I muttered, glancing at the desertified area, the streets roamed by a tumbleweed.

"I should ask the neighbor about this. Maybe they ordered a baby from the storks, because I didn't," I thought to myself, walking to their house. It’s funny because I don’t know their gender or what they look like. I’ve been indoors most of the time—cooking, sleeping, reading a romance series, or thinking about him.

The white gate creaked as I gently pushed it open. The lawn was mowed like mine, and the house’s architecture was similar but painted sky blue. I tapped on the door twice—no answer.

I walked back to my house, hoping the baby would be magically picked up by someone. Sighing, I looked back at the baby, eyes squinting at the letter tucked by the blanket.

I quickly grabbed it—a clue to find the ward of the baby and then continue my journey.

***

This is Zoey,
I'll go straight to the point: that's your baby. You should take full responsibility for your mistake. I've been parenting for nine months—make that eighteen for nurturing her in my belly!

I'm relocating to a different country to start a new life. Do whatever you like with your package. She's yours, now and forevermore.

***

My surprised look softened into a laugh. The content of this letter had to be a prank, but there was an issue—Zoey isn’t fond of jokes.

I darted to the baby, trying to ignore the eyes she shared with me. No, this must be a mistake. It can't be. Can it? Is this the reason she ghosted me for months?

Intrusive thoughts flooded my head. Pacing in the room didn’t help matters. I’m not ready to care for a child. Good things had just begun in my life. How could I ruin my happiness with my own hands?

I paused as a bulb lit above my head. What if the baby’s not mine? I should go for a DNA test, just to be sure. If she’s not mine, I’ll send her to the orphanage. If she is, I’ll take full responsibility.

That was my final decision, and it pleased my conscience. I carried the basket inside before closing the doors.

***

The doctor took our samples and told us to return after three days. At first, I didn’t think too much about it. It’s not so bad to be a single father—that’s what I thought until the soul-gripping, stomach-knotting anxiety kicked in.

The tension hooked my throat, obstructing my swallowing. If I could drop the baby and evaporate from my chair, I would. The doctor glanced at us, smiling. Why was he so excited about this? What was so exciting about a DNA test result?

"Mr. Kai, right?" he said. I nodded, my mouth tied up by suspense.

"Congrats! That’s your daughter," he announced, beaming.

My heart cracked—a trampled ice floor in the piercing winter, shattering like a glass vase fallen off the table. The world now painted in monochrome. It was the end. I’m finished. Where would I start?

"Sir?" The doctor’s firm voice jolted me back to reality.

"Yes?" I said, blinking at him.

"You’re free to go home. Thank you," he replied.

I got up, gently putting the sleeping child’s head on my shoulder.

Getting back home, I took a quick shower and leaned back on the pillow—drafting a list of baby things. Emptiness was the only emotion sitting in my chest. I didn’t know how to feel about this or how my life would turn out from there.

I can’t go back to Damian like this. Disappearing for weeks and returning with a child? No, that was wrong in so many ways.

I’ll contact Mrs. Holly to beg for more days off. I need to reorganize my plans. Adding this little one into my daily life would be a headache; it wasn’t her fault but mine for being careless.

It dawned on me that she doesn’t have a name yet. Knowing Zoey, she wouldn’t have bothered naming the child if she knew she’d drop her off soon.

I turned to the child, coiled up beside me. I embraced our resemblance—the chestnut color of her hair, though sparse, and hazel eyes.

A smile tugged at my lips at the thought of having a mini-me. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. I’d have someone jovial to keep me company.

"Brittany, that’s your name," I said, brushing her tender brown strands.

With some thinking and internet surfing, I completed my list for Brittany. I promised myself I would do everything in my power to make her life filled with happiness and comfort. I’d mend the torn holes of love and support my parents skipped. Just like every other child, Brittany deserves the best.

I ordered a yellow sunflower dress and a matching hairband to complement her soft pale skin for the outing—we were going shopping for her things.

Before that, I had a challenge to overcome—bathing a baby. I had watched multiple YouTube videos on it, and it was time to put them into practice.

I rolled up my pajama sleeves, gently removing her plain gown and diaper dampened with urine. Sitting on a stool, I laid Brittany in my arms, cleaning her body with a soft cloth.

The dress looked much cuter than I imagined. I smiled at her little giggles and slipped a pair of socks onto her tiny feet.

"Who’s my pretty little sunflower? You are," I grinned, gently nuzzling her nose. She laughed—showing her gums with only two bottom front teeth popping out.

Brittany reached to grasp my hair, and I let her. I wanted her to get used to me—to recognize me as her father, protector, and friend.

We had been together only a few days, and I was surprised she didn’t cry or act suspicious of me. I guess she takes after Zoey in that aspect.

I gave her some sliced fruit to chew on, surrounded her with a pillow, and hurried to take a bath.

Author's note:
Sorry, I couldn't make it during the weekend, I was choked up by assignments.