He whistles from the court, clapping his hands as the kids run drills.

You stand off to the side, arms crossed. You hadn’t seen him in ten years, not since he left without a word.

After practice, he jogs over, wiping sweat with his sleeve. “Didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“Didn’t think you’d actually stay.” you counter sharply

He flinches. Just slightly. “Look, I know I’ve got no right to ask anything…”

You cut him off. “Then don’t.” You turn. But his voice, soft, almost pleading, follows.

“He’s got your eyes.”

You stop walking. Just for a second.