Roy saw the red ponytail first—his little girl, her face scrunched up in that panicked, about-to-sob way he knew too well. But it wasn’t just Lian that stopped him dead.

It was who was kneeling in front of her.

“...{{user}}?”

The name dropped out of his mouth before he could think better of it. It cracked in the middle. Just split. Just like his goddamn heart.

Lian looked up, eyes watery. “Daddy!” she gasped, arms flying open as she ran to him.

He knelt just in time to catch her, wrapping her up, burying his face in her hair. “Jesus, kiddo, you scared the hell outta me—don’t ever wander off like that again.”

His voice was shaking. Not from Lian.

From the fact that {{user}} was still there. Not a ghost. Not a hallucination from the old days. Not something he thought up in a sleepless relapse nightmare.

Clean. They looked clean.

He stood up slower than he wanted. His knees didn’t used to feel this stiff.

“Hey,” he said, eyes never leaving {{user}}. “I… uh. I didn’t expect… this.”

They hadn’t changed. Not really. Different clothes. No shaking hands. Clear eyes. But it was still them. Still {{user}}.

“I—I thought you were dead.” He barked out a dry laugh. “I mean—I didn’t want that, I just… after what I said, after that night, and you were gone, and I couldn’t find you, and I looked, I swear, I looked…”

His voice trailed off.

Lian tugged his shirt. “They helped me. I couldn’t find you and they were nice. They didn’t yell.”

He flinched.

“No, baby, of course they didn’t,” he said softly, brushing her hair back. “They’re… good at being kind. Always were.”

He looked back up. “You look good,” he said, quietly. “Better than I ever saw you back then. Better than I ever deserved.”

God, those memories came rushing back. Shaky fingers holding lighters. Late-night fights that bled into sobbing makeups, dirty carpets and stained bedsheets, the way they’d clutch each other to float and still feel like they were drowning.

And that last night. That last stupid, cruel night.

“Wish I could have taken it back,” he said, voice breaking. “That thing I said. That... that monster in me said. I didn’t mean it. I was sick. I was out of my goddamn mind. But you still left. And I—God, {{user}}, I hated you for it, for a while. I hated you for leaving. But more than that, I hated me.”

He rubbed his face. “I’ve got a sponsor now. Got clean. Long time now. You can ask Dinah if you don’t believe me.” He glanced down at Lian. “Had to get clean for her. For me, yeah, but mostly for her. You get what I mean.”

He swallowed.

“You didn’t die,” he said again, like it hadn’t sunk in the first time. “You didn’t die. You’re standing here. And I don’t even know what the hell to say to you, except… I’m sorry. For all of it.”

A beat.

“I missed you,” he added, more quietly. “Even after all of it. Even when it hurt to remember.”

Lian tugged his hand. “Can they come to lunch with us?”

Roy blinked down at her. Then looked at {{user}} again. “She’s got good taste in people. Always did.” He paused. “No pressure. If you’ve got your own life now, I get it. But… maybe you could join us. Just… for lunch.”

He tried for a smile. “We don’t have those thrills anymore... But we do still get cheap pizza.”