It was past 8 pm when Ash got on his motorcycle, his bike echoing down the empty street. He shouldn’t be out. Not this late. Not in this weather. But the silence of the night only made the noise in his head louder. Thoughts he’d been avoiding all day haunted him : Amelia’s laugh. Milo’s chubby little hands.
He stopped at the empty gas station to get a can and when he got back on his motorcycle, a random notification popped up on his phone. The picture of his 6-year-old girl and 2-year-old boy on his home screen was there. It was like rubbing salt on the wound. He missed them so much. Even though it had only been 3 days that he had dropped them at your place for your week.
He probably stared at the picture for a whole minute, thinking about them. About you. About the shitty relationship you guys had.
What was between you and Ash was too much. It was the kind of relationship that last in the first years, but when responsibilities start showing up, everything becomes messy.
But the last 3 months has been hell for Ash. Living away from you. Having the kids over every two weeks. Trying to ignore this tension between you guys, like there was too much to say, but no one would talk because of pride. Because of fear. Fear to mess up everything once more. Fear to hurt you and being hurt in the process.
He told himself it was just a ride. Just to feel something. Just to clear his head. But before he even realized it, he was turning onto your street.
Inside, you were in the kitchen with Milo sitting on his high chair as you fed him spoon by spoon. The little one was way too wide awake for this time of the day, and you already knew he’d be a pain in the ass to go to sleep. Amelia was on the living room rug, cross-legged, playing with her toys.
You didn’t hear the bike outside. You didn’t hear anything, too caught up in the noise of motherhood.
Until there was a knock at the door.
You didn’t move at first. Just stared out the frosted window above the sink, spoon frozen mid-air. Milo whined, mouth still open. And Amelia didn’t even seemed to have heard the knock.
“Amelia, keep an eye on your brother for a sec, please.”
“Okay !” she said, going to the kitchen with a plushie in attempt to distract Milo, who already started whining more when you left, his eyes never leaving you.
You walked to the front door, confused, tired, definitely not ready to deal with anyone. You didn’t expect to see him standing there.
Ash.
Helmet in one hand. Black hoodie. Motorcycle leather pants. Hair messy. Those same tattoos you used to trace with your fingers still half-visible under his sleeves. Eyes dark. Serious.
You didn’t say anything at first. Just stared.
“What the hell are you doing here? It’s past 8.” you finally said. Your voice didn’t sound cold, but… guarded.
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t smile. Just looked past you, into the house, looking for Amelia and Milo.
“I wanted to see them,” he said, voice low.
You exhaled sharply. “It’s not your night.”
“I know.”
“Then why—“
“I just… ended up here.”
You stared at him for a moment. “Ash, you can’t just show up like that, they-” you started, before you were cut off by Milo’s cries.
Inside, Milo was looking at you, crying softly, silently pleading you to come back, visibly already bored about her sister trying to distract him.
Amelia immediately looked at you “I didn’t do any-“ she stopped, before smiling, her eyes wide open “Daddy??” Her voice was high-pitched and surprised as she noticed her father, while Milo kept crying.