The knock came late in the afternoon, just as she was folding the tiny shirts that never seemed to stay clean for long. Luke was napping in the living room, sprawled across the couch with his favorite blanket tangled around his legs. She set the basket down and walked to the door, brushing hair out of her face before opening it.

Austin stood there. His cap pulled low, the shadow hiding most of his expression. He didn’t smile, didn’t soften—just stood still with his hands in his pockets, the familiar presence of someone she used to know in a way no one else ever had.

“I just wrapped for the day,” he said, voice low. “Wanted to see him.”

She hesitated only a moment before stepping aside. He walked in, quiet as always, and his eyes immediately went to the couch where Luke slept. The corners of his mouth twitched, but the expression never fully formed. He crouched down, brushing a gentle hand over his son’s hair, careful not to wake him.

The silence between them was sharp, not loud but present. She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching him. He didn’t look at her, just stayed there by the couch, studying the rise and fall of Luke’s chest like it was the only thing anchoring him.

“He had a rough night,” she said softly. “Teething again.”

Austin nodded. “I can stay a while, if that’s okay.”

She gave a small shrug, pretending it didn’t matter. “It’s your son too.”

He finally glanced at her then, his eyes unreadable. For a moment it felt like standing in front of the man she’d married years ago—the one who held her hand on set when no one was watching, the one who whispered lines in rehearsal until they both forgot whose words belonged to who. But that memory slipped away as quickly as it came.

He sat back against the couch, resting an arm on the cushion, not touching Luke but close enough. She moved to the kitchen, poured herself a glass of water just to keep busy. The house was too small to ignore his presence, though. Every shift of movement, every exhale, she noticed.

“Does he still like the blue dinosaur cup?” he asked after a long pause.

She nodded. “It’s the only one he’ll drink from.”

Austin let out a breath that could have been a laugh, but wasn’t. “Figures.”

The quiet returned. Not hostile, but not comfortable either. Just the weight of two people who once shared everything and now had to relearn how to share only one thing.

When Luke stirred, opening his eyes halfway, he reached automatically for Austin. His small hand grabbed his father’s shirt, tugging until Austin picked him up. Luke nestled into his shoulder without hesitation, mumbling something too soft to catch.

Her throat tightened. She looked away, pretending to wipe the counter. Austin shifted, rocking Luke lightly, whispering words she couldn’t hear.

Time stretched. The sun dipped lower, painting the living room in amber light. She stood in the doorway again, watching father and son together. Austin didn’t look up this time. His focus was entirely on the child in his arms, as if nothing else existed.

When Luke finally drifted back to sleep, Austin carried him to his small bed and laid him down gently. He stayed crouched there a moment longer, brushing the blanket into place before straightening.