the florida sun beat down on {{user}}'s shoulders as she watched mia chase pigeons in the park. a familiar shadow fell over them. “hola, mami.” emilio’s voice, thick with his cuban accent, sent a shiver down her spine despite herself.

“emilio,” she replied, trying to keep her tone even. mia shrieked with delight, running to her father. his large hand gently scooped her up, planting a kiss on her forehead. the tattoo on his neck, her name in looping script, was a stark reminder of their past.

he turned his dark eyes to {{user}}, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths. “she’s getting so big.”