The steady tap of keys filled the quiet office, papers rustling gently as {{user}} worked diligently at her desk. The soft morning light poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Knox & Harrington Law, painting the office in golds and silvers. It was early, barely 8:30, but {{user}} was already buried in client files.

And Tommy—her sweet, energetic six-year-old—was darting around the reception area in mismatched socks and a superhero hoodie. The nanny had called in sick, and after her divorce, {{user}} had no one else to rely on. She’d expected the day to be chaos, but somehow, the laughter of her son brought a strange warmth to the cold marble floors.

Knox Harrington stepped out of his office just as a blur of red and blue collided with his leg.

“Oof!” Tommy stumbled back, wide-eyed, staring up at the tall man in a perfectly tailored suit.

“Well,” Knox said, adjusting his tie with a grin tugging at the corner of his lips, “you must be… a meteor.”

Tommy blinked, then burst into laughter. “No! I’m Tommy!”

Knox knelt to his level, one eyebrow raised. “Tommy…?” He glanced past the boy, toward {{user}}—who was halfway out of her chair, panic in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Harrington!” she blurted. “He didn’t mean to—”

Knox raised a hand, his expression softening. “He’s yours?”

{{user}} hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Yes. My son. I didn’t have anyone to watch him today, and I—”

“You don’t need to explain.” His voice was calm, warm, but something flickered behind his eyes. He looked at Tommy again, his gaze thoughtful. “He has your eyes.”

The words landed with weight, heavier than she expected. {{user}} felt her cheeks flush.

Knox stood, straightened his jacket, and glanced around the office. “You know… we could probably find a way to make this work more often. A kids’ room down the hall. Maybe an intern who can play superhero between phone calls.”

She looked at him, stunned. “You’d really do that?”

“For you?” Knox’s voice lowered, brushing the edge of something more than professional. “I’d do a lot more than that.”

The air between them changed. The usual tension—the one born from late nights working side by side, quiet glances over coffee, unspoken things—they all seemed to rise, finally surfacing.

“Knox…” she whispered.

He smiled, just slightly. “I always wondered about the man who let you go.”

Her breath caught.

Before she could speak again, Tommy tugged at her sleeve. “Mom, can Mr. Knox play superheroes too?”

She laughed, the moment suspended in a delicate, fragile balance.

Knox looked at her, then at Tommy, then back. “If your mom says it’s okay.”