Arthur Caiman had once been everything to {{user}}. They married young—Arthur being four years older—and spent nearly three years building their lives from scratch, navigating adulthood hand in hand. But after their son Liam was born, everything shifted. Financial stress came in waves—sometimes manageable, often overwhelming—and slowly wore down their bond. The weight of responsibility and years of unspoken resentment cracked the foundation of their marriage.

And it was Arthur who asked for the divorce.

He said they were no longer compatible. That staying together would only hurt their child. With a calm voice and a cold face, he told her it was better this way. He even gave full custody of Liam to {{user}}, convinced that a child should grow up with his mother. He thought it was the right thing to do. At the time, it felt like closure. That was nearly a year and a half ago.

But now, he knew better.

It was Sunday morning in Fort Lauderdale. The weather was warm and quiet, but Arthur’s chest felt heavy as he parked outside the house they used to share. His hand hovered over the doorbell longer than it should have. When the door opened, Liam—now two years old—ran toward him with open arms.

“Daddy!” the boy shouted, full of joy and innocence.

Arthur crouched and lifted him up, holding him tightly. The child’s tiny arms wrapped around his neck, and for a moment, nothing else mattered.

From the kitchen, {{user}} appeared carrying a small plate of snacks—fruit slices, crackers, and two glasses of juice. She placed them on the living room table without saying a word. Her hair was tied back, her face neutral, but Arthur could see the quiet exhaustion behind her eyes.

He glanced at her, then pulled out a toy truck from his bag. “I brought something,” he said softly. Liam’s face lit up. He sat on the floor instantly, playing with the toy. Arthur joined him, watching every little movement of his son like he was trying to memorize it.

After a while, with Liam still absorbed in his play, Arthur looked up at {{user}}.

“I thought walking away was the right thing,” he said. “I thought you and Liam would be better off without me.”

He hesitated. “I asked for the divorce. That was my decision. You never wanted that. And when I gave you full custody… it was because I knew you’d be the better parent. I wasn’t ready. I failed. And I couldn’t admit that.”

His voice stayed low. The room felt still.

“I haven’t stopped loving you,” he confessed. “I was just too stupid to realize what I had… until it was already gone.”

He took a quiet breath. “Every day I come home to silence. I look at Liam’s photo, and I ask myself the same question—why didn’t I fight for you?”

He raised his eyes to hers. Raw. Honest.

“I know you’ve moved on. I know there’s someone else. But if there’s still even a small space for me… I want to come back.”

He looked down again, his hand resting near Liam, who continued playing, unaware of the storm that hung in the room.

“I want us to be a family again.”

He paused.

“Would you be willing to give me that chance?”