One Night

Chapter 1 - Going Back

© 2012 Astrix

**A/N: Arlright, I know the prologue didn't give much, so here's the first chapter.

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Chapter 1

Going Back

"Come on sweetie, you have to get up," I place a hand on little Dalia's back as I shake her slightly.

"But it's summer mommy," the seven year old mumbles back, "I get to sleep in."

"I know it's summer," I pull the pink covers back. "But we're going to Kostas, remember?"

At the mention of the country we'll be spending the summer in, Dalia sits up, rubbing her eyes, "that's today?"

"Yes," I nod as her eyes fully open, "now get up and get ready, we won't want to... miss out flight," I shake my head, chuckling as the bathroom door closes.

As she gets ready, I go back to my room in the apartment. It's small, but it's home. Dropping out of high school and not going to college didn't put me in the place to have a decent job. But drawing and writing put food on the table and pay the bills as well as allow me to spoil Dalia every now and then.

I sit down behind my old desk. The top, which I'm sure used to be a very beautiful shade of red, is now the color of the wood it was painted on with many line over the top. The legs are a little wobbly, but it hasn't fallen yet, so it's all good.

I grab the letter that's on top of it, open and filled with creased on the edges for the many times I've read it. This is the reason why I was going back. It arrived two months ago. Telling me to get back home as soon as possible.

Of course, I couldn't really just pack up and leave. Not when I had a seven year old two months away from finishing second grade.

But I was worried. What if I get there too late? I shake my head, no; it doesn't say it's that bad.

"Mommy!" I turn my head towards my open door where Dalia is standing holding two dresses. One is a flowery blue one, while the other is a red, which ruffles on the skirt. "Which one should I wear?"

"Neither," I say, standing up, "I told you, you're putting on the jeans and the shirt on your rocking chair.

"But I want to wear a dress." She whines.

"And I said no," I place my hands on my hips, pursing my lips, my signature look to let her know that I mean what I'm saying.

"Fine."

I chuckle quietly as I go to our kitchen. Bringing out her pink bowl I pour the milk from the carton on it and throw in some Fruity Pebbles.

A few minutes later, Dalia comes in, wearing the jeans and red shirt I picked out for her. Her long brown hair reaching her mid back.

"I'll call the cab," I told her once she is seated.

"Mommy?" She asks shyly, causing me to turn around fast, my Dalia is anything but shy.

"Yes darling?"

"Am I going to meet Daddy in Kosta?" She's starring at her cereal while talking, it was obvious that she had been debating whether or not to ask me.

I take a deep breath. I hadn't thought of that.

Of course, it did help that she didn't look like an exact replica of her father. She only has his hair and eyes. But the rest of her features seem to be a mixture of him and I.

"I don't know sweetheart," I lied; of course we would see him again. How could we not? "Maybe."

"Would I know?"

"Would you know what?"

"Would I know if he's my dad?" She finally looks up at me, "will I be able to tell who my daddy is?"

I sigh, walking up to her and bending down to her level, "I don't think so. But," I bit my bottom lip, I knew this time was going to come someday, "sweetheart, I want you to know this." I make sure she's fully listening to me before I speak, "your dad doesn't know about you."

"Why not? Why didn't you tell him?" tears start forming in her eyes, "why don't you want me to be with my daddy?"

"Sweetheart, it's not that."

"Then why is it?"

"When I was going to tell your dad about you," I close my eyes, I had to be strong for this, "when I decided that he should know about you, I found out that he was going to marry someone else."

"But he wouldn't had, if you had told him," she cried, "you should had told him anyways!"

"And you think I didn't?" I ask her, closing my mind to the memories begging to rush in, "you think I didn't try to tell him that I was pregnant? He wouldn't listen to me."

"You should have slapped him," she exclaims, wiping her tears, "that way you could tell him while he was in shock."

I chuckle, bending forward to peck her forehead, "you're so smart. But I couldn't hit him. He's very, very powerful; he would have sent me to jail, and then what? You wouldn't have me today. You probably wouldn't have been born."

"I hate my dad!" she stands up, "he hurt you! He wouldn't listen to you! Why are we going back then? Why should we go somewhere we're not wanted?"

"Don't say that," I pick her up, "you don't hate him. I'm sure that if he finds out about you, he'll want you, and he'll regret not listening to me."

"Yeah, but now I don't want to listen to him," she crosses her arms stubbornly, "I don't wanna know about him. I want nothing to do with him! And you can't change my mind."

"Of course not," I sigh, knowing that once she made up her mind, she wouldn't change it, "but know that it's your decision and you're allowed to change your mind. If you want to know him one day, you are free to do so."

"I doubt it, but ok," she says and wiggles her way out of my arms, "now go call the cab mommy, or we'll be late."

"I'm going."