Is she my daughter?

“Answer me, damn you!” Alex was growling. How could he remain unaware of the approaching babble of an effervescent eight-month-old baby? He had his back to the door and so he did not see Alessa and the now-faltering Maria crossed the threshold. Maria hesitated at my gaze, she swept around the room, immediately picking up on the tension. The toddler had no such reservations and upon seeing l a me, her face lit up and she made a beeline for the cot. She was muttering incoherently under her breath, as was her wont, and her nappy-clad bottom waddled comically as she toddled her way towards me. Alex still seemed to have no idea that his daughter was here, and as Alessa is such a stubborn girl, she began to cry when the baby sitter didn’t drop her to the floor to crawl.

Maria kept signaling me if she should bring her to me and I nod my head. When Maria brought her to me she hit her father and laugh and he stare deeply at her trying to figure out if she was the daughter he was asking after