All three of those things were true—Elliot wouldn't miss him, didn't know him, didn't need him. He was a toddler with only a vague awareness of his biological father's existence and would recognize his face if he saw him in public, but had no idea of the magnitude of the connection.
"But he will," Dionisia said in a whisper, feeling as though she was about to let go of a secret. Her chest felt heavy and with his arm stiffened under hers, she felt tempted to drop her hand away; but she didn't, because the contact was keeping him grounded in place, keeping her grounded in place.
"Maybe not now. Maybe not for fifteen, twenty, maybe thirty years. But one day he will figure out that Ari's not the man who fathered him, because he'll be just as clever then as he is now, and I don't want to want to have to look my son in the eyes and tell him that he'd met his biological father, was getting to know him, was cared for despite the circumstances of his birth, but that he'd made a decision that made ever truly knowing him an impossibility." It was a heavy burden to place on him, and she wasn't trying to force him into any proper role, but he needed to know that this—fatherhood—was not something that would go away once they didn't see each other or talk anymore. Elliott would always be a bastard, and one day he would know it.
The regret—or maybe it was just sorrow, since she was not sorry for the truth that she would have to live with whether or not Ben was there—showed on her face as she pulled away from him. She watched his face as she backed away to the nursery door, positioning herself against the doorframe once more.
"I know there is nothing I can do to change your mind," she said softly, putting her hand on the doorknob behind her, "and if all goes well, or even if it doesn't, I will be here. Just - be safe, Ben."
"But he will," Dionisia said in a whisper, feeling as though she was about to let go of a secret. Her chest felt heavy and with his arm stiffened under hers, she felt tempted to drop her hand away; but she didn't, because the contact was keeping him grounded in place, keeping her grounded in place.
"Maybe not now. Maybe not for fifteen, twenty, maybe thirty years. But one day he will figure out that Ari's not the man who fathered him, because he'll be just as clever then as he is now, and I don't want to want to have to look my son in the eyes and tell him that he'd met his biological father, was getting to know him, was cared for despite the circumstances of his birth, but that he'd made a decision that made ever truly knowing him an impossibility." It was a heavy burden to place on him, and she wasn't trying to force him into any proper role, but he needed to know that this—fatherhood—was not something that would go away once they didn't see each other or talk anymore. Elliott would always be a bastard, and one day he would know it.
The regret—or maybe it was just sorrow, since she was not sorry for the truth that she would have to live with whether or not Ben was there—showed on her face as she pulled away from him. She watched his face as she backed away to the nursery door, positioning herself against the doorframe once more.
"I know there is nothing I can do to change your mind," she said softly, putting her hand on the doorknob behind her, "and if all goes well, or even if it doesn't, I will be here. Just - be safe, Ben."
