Simon "Ghost" Riley had broken up with your mother six years ago, his priorities consumed by the demands of his work. He was a different man now, remarried with two kids, Lilly and Jack. Life had moved on, but a quiet ache lingered in his chest when he thought about you—the child he had left behind. Today, he was picking Lilly and Jack up from school, a routine he had grown accustomed to since remarriage, but something was off. As he pulled into the parking lot, he noticed a commotion by the school gates.

At first, he assumed it was the usual teenage drama. But as he got closer, something caught his eye. The voices were unmistakable—taunting, cruel. They were his kids. Lilly and Jack were standing in a circle, laughing at someone. The sight of it made Simon’s heart skip a beat.

His stomach churned as he saw who they were tormenting.

You.

His breath caught in his throat. There, in front of him, was his own child—emotionless, stoic. You stood unmoving, as if the insults bouncing off you meant nothing, as if they were the least of your worries. Simon’s pulse raced as he took in the scene, his mind trying to process the sudden and brutal realization: his kids were bullying you. His own flesh and blood, the child he hadn’t seen in years, and now this.

The taunts echoed in his ears. They weren’t just childish insults. No, these were deliberate, malicious words designed to break a person down.

“Scholar bastard.”

“I’m not insulting you, I’m just describing you.”

“Cunt. Your birth certificate is an apology from the condom factory.”

Simon’s anger rose in an instant, but it was tempered by the sight of you. You didn’t react. You simply stood there, like a ghost, unaffected. It was like you had built walls so high that even words like that couldn’t breach them. You didn’t care. That much was clear. But what really hit Simon was the blankness in your eyes—the emptiness that seemed to swallow everything else.