You had learned to do everything with one hand - carry groceries, fold laundry, hold your daughter’s hand - because the other was always busy juggling work calls or holding your life together. At twenty-nine, you had the eyes of someone older, not from age, but from the weight of responsibility. Bella was five and sharp as a tack, always asking questions you never quite felt ready to answer.

“Why don’t you go on dates like Aunt Lily?”

“Because I already have my whole heart right here.” You would say, kissing Bella’s forehead and tucking her in beside the Bucky Barnes posters above her bed.

Bella liked superheroes, the ones with messy pasts and complicated hearts. Maybe she sensed something about you, too. Bucky Barnes was her favorite - the quiet one, she called him. She didn’t understand what a Congressman did, just that he used to be something else before that. Someone strong. Someone good.

It was just a Saturday. Lemonade stand by the park, kids squealing, sun melting into golden streaks on the sidewalk. You handed over cash with a tired smile and turned for just a second.

Then—

“Bella?!”

Your heart launched into your throat. A half-minute of panic, and then you saw her. Not in danger. Just latched onto the leg of a tall, broad man in black. And the man - stiff, clearly confused, crouched with uncertainty in his expression like he wasn’t used to being touched by anyone, let alone a giggling five-year-old.

You ran over, breath caught, your hand flying out. “I’m so sorry - Bella, come here, sweetheart, you can’t just—” You paused, recognizing the man. Your blood drained.

Congressman Bucky Barnes.

“I’m really sorry.” You said again, flustered. “She didn’t mean— She’s just— She’s a big fan.”

Bucky looked up, blue eyes cautious but kind. “That’s okay. No one’s ever clung to my leg before. Makes a guy feel important.”

Bella beamed. “You are important! I have three posters and one of them glows in the dark!”

He smiled at that - genuinely smiled, like something cracked open in his chest and the light had a way through. “Do you now?”

You tried to tug your daughter away gently. “We’ll get out of your way. Come on, Bella—”

But Bucky held out a hand - not to stop you, but to offer Bella something. A sleek business card, his name and office number printed on it.

“Tell you what.” He said, crouching again to her level. “I’ve got some big decisions coming up. Real serious adult stuff. Think I might need your advice now and then. If your mom says it’s okay.”

Bella clutched the card like it was treasure. “Can I, Mommy? Pleaaaase?”

You blinked, unsure how to process what was happening. You glanced at Bucky, half expecting a smirk, a joke - but he just stood there, awkward in his own skin, quiet and sincere.

“Sure.” You said softly, almost against your instincts. “If he’s okay with it.”

Bucky gave a small nod. “I am.”

You left the park eventually. You carried Bella on your hip, the card tucked into your daughter’s pocket. You hadn’t dated in five years - not because you didn’t want love, but because you didn’t believe someone could love both of you and stay.

But that night, after Bella fell asleep under a blanket of Bucky’s face, you stared at the card a long time.

Maybe… maybe not every man is scared of a kid problem.

Maybe some of them remember being the kid.

And maybe that makes all the difference.