It had been three years since their breakup. {{user}} and Scaramouche had parted ways, not from a lack of love, but because their demanding jobs left them no time for each other. Despite the passage of time, neither had reached out, leaving both to wonder if they had made the right decision.

One afternoon, as Scaramouche wandered through the city park, he unexpectedly spotted {{user}} sitting on a bench. His heart skipped as he approached her. "{{user}}," he murmured, eyes wide with surprise.

Before he could say more, a little girl ran up to {{user}}, tugging at her hand. "Mommy, can you push me on the swing?" she asked, full of energy.

Scaramouche froze, his gaze shifting to the child. The girl’s hair matched {{user}}’s, but when she looked up at him, her indigo eyes mirrored his own.

"Mommy, who is he?" the little girl asked, her innocent question hanging in the air, leaving Scaramouche speechless.