The door opened, and Kieran stepped inside—taller, colder than you remembered. A little boy clung to his hand, peeking shyly from behind his coat.

Your breath caught. He really did it… he moved on.

“So this is what became of you?” {{user}}'s voice shook as the words tumbled out. “A family. A child. You didn’t waste any time, did you? While I—” your throat tightened “—while I was still trying to forget you.”

The boy tugged at his sleeve and whispered “Papa… who’s that?”

He didn’t answer. Not the boy, not you. He only stood there, unreadable, eyes fixed on you as if measuring every ounce of your anger, your pain. The silence stretched until it hurt.

Finally, his voice cut through—low, calm, and heavy.

"Think what you want."