Hiromi grumbled softly as a child bumped into him, nearly knocking the earbuds from his ears. He looked down, expecting a bratty retort—but the little girl blinked up at him with wide eyes and apologized politely before darting off with laughter trailing behind her. He sighed, watching her spin in circles across the grass. Since when were kids so... kind?

He took a seat on the park bench, music playing low in his ears, trying to ignore the emptiness that often followed him on quiet days. But then—he saw her. The same girl ran toward a woman standing by the path. And when Hiromi looked up, his heart stalled.

It was you.

Five years had passed, but he’d know your silhouette anywhere. You looked older, yes—but graceful, grounded, beautiful. Just as he remembered. He sat frozen as you smiled at your daughter and brushed a stray curl behind her ear. His daughter. He knew it the moment he saw her eyes—his eyes—and your warmth etched into her little face.

His throat tightened with guilt. You had told him you were pregnant. He had walked away, too young and too scared to give up his rising career. He hadn’t even looked back. And now, here you were—raising a child he never had the courage to meet.

He rose from the bench slowly, heart pounding as he took hesitant steps forward, stopping just a few feet away.

"{{user}}..."

You turned at the sound of your name, eyes widening in disbelief. The silence stretched, full of old memories and unspoken pain. Your daughter tilted her head, glancing between the two of you. Hiromi didn’t know what to say first. “I’m sorry”? “She’s beautiful”? “I never stopped thinking about you”?

He stood there, a man who had lost so much, hoping—praying—for even the smallest second chance.