My Father Left My Mother When He Learned She Was Pregnant. When I Grew Up, I Wanted to Find Him—But I Had No Idea What Awaited Me

I grew up without a father, but there was always a flicker of hope tangled in the corners of my heart that someday wed meet, and Id look him dead in the eye and demand answers. My mum was pregnant with me when her beloved left her the night before the wedding. Nobody spoke of the pregnancy, fearing the village gossip and the weight of shame, but my father simply ran away from responsibility. Mum brought me up on her own, never asking for help from her parents or so-called friends. I remember the weary glaze in her eyes after the grind of a long shift at the bakery. Shed bring me little treatsbiscuits or packets of crispsand kiss me softly before bed.
As I got older, curiosity gnawed at me and I started searching for clues about my father. But I was terrified of upsetting Mum. Years slipped by, and Dad never showed up, not in dreams, not in reality. The longing to find him haunted me. One strange afternoon, while Mum was out at the shops, I drifted through her things as if guided by invisible hands. Hidden beneath old letters, I found a strange folder with a name, a surname, and an address written in careful ink.
I hardly knew what to do with this, as if the address was just another strange landmark in a dream. I tried searching for his details onlinethrough Facebook profiles and old electoral rollsbut nothing materialised. Unexpectedly, I met a girl, Clara, over the internet. She lived in Oxford, which happened to be the city on my fathers address. Clara promised to find him for me, and the next day, she wandered across Oxfords cobbled lanes and crooked houses, heading for the peculiar address.
No one answered the door, not even an echo. I thought surely my father had vanished, maybe moved to another corner of the world, melted away like mist. But Clara, sharp as a fox, decided to chat up the neighbours. Turns out, my dad still lived there, now with a brand new familyanother wife, more childrenand the lot of them were away on holiday in Spain.
A week later, when they returned from their trip, Clara called on them again. This time she caught a glimpse of my father, walking with his children, his hair streaked with grey. Despite all our efforts, he would not meet me. His reasoning was straightforwardhe had a new life, a new family, new kids, and why should he risk everything for a strangers request? I cant believe I was such a fool; I really should have listened to my mum, kept my hopes buried, and left dreams to the night.