The doorbell rang right on time.

{{user}} closed her eyes for a second before opening the door, adjusting her daughter in her arms. One year of life — rosy cheeks, tiny fingers clinging to her clothes as if the world were far too big.

Nosaka Yuuma was there.

Impeccable, as always. Straight posture, calculated expression. But all of it wavered the moment his eyes landed on the child.

— She looks different… — he murmured.

— She’s growing — you replied, dry but tired. — Come in. She just woke up.

He stepped inside with restrained movements, observing the apartment like someone intruding into a life that no longer belonged to him. And it really didn’t.

The baby recognized him immediately. A wide smile spread across her face as she stretched her arms toward him.

Nosaka hesitated for only a second before taking her.

— Hi, little one… — his voice came out low, almost fragile. — I missed you.

She wrapped her tiny fingers tightly around his, laughing. Your chest tightened. It was unfair how opposite feelings could still exist inside you.

— You always say that — you said, crossing your arms. — But you keep leaving as if nothing ever changes.

He slowly lifted his gaze.

— I never abandoned our daughter.

— No — you agreed. — You only abandoned me.

Silence fell heavily, almost suffocating. The child babbled random sounds, unaware of the open wound between you.

— I made mistakes — Nosaka finally said. — But I didn’t come to relive the past. I came to see her… and to know if you’re okay.

You let out a short, joyless laugh.

— Okay? I survive. That’s what I’ve done ever since you left.

He watched you for a long moment, as if searching for words he couldn’t find.

— She has your eyes — he commented.

— And your stubbornness — you replied immediately.

A discreet smile appeared on his lips. The same as before. The same one that still hurt.

— Can I take her to the park today? — he asked. — You can come along, if you want.

You hesitated. Not because of him. Because of yourself.

— All right — you finally said. — But be clear: it’s for her. Only for her.

Nosaka nodded, serious.

— It was always for her.

And as you watched your daughter calm in the arms of the man who had once been your husband, you realized the problem was never the ending.