A year after their breakup, Jay Park walked into the conference room expecting nothing more than another routine meeting—until he saw {{user}} sitting across the table.

She looked different. Softer. Tired in a way he couldn’t place. But still so painfully beautiful that Jay forgot how to breathe for a second. She didn’t look at him once, only spoke strictly about business, eyes trained on the documents, never on him.

It had been a year. A year without her. A year of wondering why she left.

And now she was here—calm, composed… but strangely protective of the loose scarf draped around her front.

When the meeting ended, Jay didn’t get the chance to speak to her. She slipped out first, the door closing in his face before he could even call her name.

He followed anyway.

Outside the building, he saw her stop in front of a waiting nanny. A stroller sat beside her, tiny legs kicking, a soft giggle escaping the baby boy inside. The child wore a dinosaur onesie—green, with little fabric spikes—and the moment Jay saw his face, he froze.

Because the baby looked exactly like him. Same eyes. Same smile. Same dimple that only appears when he giggles.

{{user}}leaned down, whispering a gentle, “Peek-a-boo,” and the baby burst into louder laughter. Jay felt something crack open inside his chest.

He knew her. He knew her values, her heart. She wasn’t the type to jump into anyone’s bed—not then, not now.

Which meant the truth hit him all at once, heavy and undeniable.

The baby was his.

His throat tightened as he stepped closer, voice low, trembling with disbelief and something painfully hopeful.

“{{user}}… is that—”

She stiffened, turning slowly, eyes wide.

Jay’s gaze was already on the baby. On their baby.

“I knew it,” he whispered, breath unsteady. “He’s mine… isn’t he?”