(Olivia)
As Mr. Hargrove helped me to my feet, I still felt like I was floating outside of myself, as though none of this could be real.
Everything seems out of balance. My father. He was my father. The man I had only ever seen in professional settings, a figure of formality, was now standing beside me, telling me that the DNA test proved that I was his daughter.
The thought felt too big to hold onto, but there it was, staring me in the face.
He led me to his car, his hand on my back as if I might crumble again at any moment. I slid into the passenger seat, still not sure how to feel.
I barely noticed him getting in on the driver's side, overwhelmed by emotions that refused to settle inside me.
He started the engine, but neither of us moved. The car remained parked. Mr. Hargrove c
