The apartment felt strangely empty as you stood there, a suitcase in hand, ready to let go for the next few days. The quiet between you and Michael had grown thick, neither of you speaking as Julia ran excitedly around, preparing to leave. But the unsaid words hung heavy in the air.

Michael sat on the couch, his hands resting on his knees, his eyes tired, worn from the weight of the recent past. The divorce had been painful for both of you, but there was an undeniable ache in his expression, something deeper than just the end of a marriage.

You paused in the doorway, glancing at him, the silence between you too loud now.

“Are we really done?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

The question caught you off guard. You had thought, with everything that had happened, that this was clear. But now, with his eyes searching yours, it was almost as if the possibility of a second chance lingered in the air.

“Michael…” you started, unsure of how to answer, but he cut you off, his tone more urgent now, desperate in a way you hadn’t expected.

“Are you willing to try again? For Julia, at least? We owe it to her.”

The words stung, pulling at a part of you that had already begun to heal. You opened your mouth to speak, to say what your heart felt, but before you could, a small voice interrupted the moment.

“Papa!”

Suddenly, Julia burst into the room, her little arms reaching up, her face full of excitement. Without hesitation, she ran straight into Michael’s arms, interrupting the conversation with the innocent love only a child could offer.

Michael’s expression softened in an instant as he scooped her up, burying his face in her hair. She giggled, wrapping her arms around him tightly.