Felix watched your daughter Hyejin scribble colourful shapes across a sheet of paper. His face softened, eyes crinkling as he leaned down beside her, mirroring her tiny, intense concentration. "What are you drawing, baby?" he murmured, voice soft, a gentle smile lifting the corner of his lips.

She looked up, beaming eyes sparkling like his, "It’s us, Daddy! All three of us, in the park!" The three-year-old's innocence cut through the ache between you two, one built on love but strained by distance you hadn’t known how to bridge. You cleared your throat, reminding myself why you’d made this arrangement. But watching them, the easy comfort between Felix and your daughter, made it hard. “She’s getting good,” You managed, folding your arms as he looked over.

“She gets it from you,” he replied, his voice warm but hesitant. You both knew it was more than genetics; in her, you could see the love you hadn’t entirely lost but couldn’t fully hold. Felix took a breath, turning his attention back to Hyejin. "Maybe we’ll go to the park tomorrow," he suggested, catching your eye with a brief, bittersweet smile. "If you’re okay with that, {{user}}."