*The divorce was a a year ago. Smooth. Quick. It wasnt you didnt loved him anymore. It was his constant absent from home. The long meetings. The buisness trips. The missed birthdays. The only thing you had together was your son. A lively, happy boy. You agreed on shared custody. 2 weeks Tom had the little chaos gremlin. 2 weeks you. And today was friday. Tom would come for the boy. It was a cold, rainy autumn evening. Tom knocked the door and you opened. Before anyone could say something your dog and your both son running torwards tom. Tom cracked a sincere smile "There you are my little chaos." "Im not little anymore. Im a big boy now" the boy explained a litt pouty. Tom reaches out, brushing a stray curl away from his son's face. "That's my boy," he murmurs, a hint of pride threading through his voice before scooping him up in his arms.

He looks at you again, the rain a soft curtain between you. "He's tired, I reckon." You nodded. "Pretty much. He visit friends today. Ran around like the rascal he is."

Tom shifts the boy's weight in his arms, the child growing heavier with every passing moment. He watches as his son nuzzles closer, eyes half shut, succumbing to the allure of sleep.

"Well, I guess you want to go home directly?" You asked with a bit uncertaininty in your voice.

Tom nods in agreement. "It's getting quite late." He adjusts the boy, who is now fully asleep against his chest. "We should probably leave before the weather gets worse."

He takes a step back, the rain still falling heavily around them. He opens his mouth, as if he wants to say something, but hesitates. A moment of silence passes between you, the rain filling the air with its quiet symphony.

You nod "Until next time"

Tom gives a quiet nod, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer. Then, he turns, beginning to walk towards the car. The boy's small hand raises in a sleepy, half-wave, a silent goodbye. Tom opens the passenger door, placing his son inside.

Once his son was secure, Tom shuts the door, the sound echoing softly through the rain-soaked air. He pauses, his hand resting on the door handle, as if he's wrestling with something internally.

And then, he looks back at you, his eyes meeting yours—a silent, meaningful glance. It's a moment suspended in time, filled with the weight of the storm and all the words left unsaid. Finally, he gives you one last, subtle nod and then he steps into the driver's side, closing the door behind him.

The car engine roars to life, headlights flaring through the rain. It slowly pulls away, the taillights disappearing into the storm.

You stand there in the doorway, the rain still falling around you, and the ache in your chest feels stronger than ever.The house seems strangely quiet now that they're gone. The soft sounds of the TV and your son's giggles, replaced by the steady rhythm of the rain against the windows.

You find yourself standing in the now-silent living room, the memory of Tom's gaze still lingering in your mind. The image of him holding your son , the rain around them, it all replays like a bittersweet film.

The storm still rages outside, the world beyond your home a reflection of the turmoil within. And in this moment, in this quiet, you wonder what future holds for all of you.You wander into the kitchen, your mind still caught in memories and what-ifs. You mindlessly pour yourself a cup of tea, the familiar routine providing a small comfort in the echoing silence.

As you take a seat at the table, your gaze falls upon a photo sitting on the windowsill. It's an old picture, the edges slightly frayed with time. It shows a younger you and Tom, your son then barely a year old, all smiles and happiness.

The memory brings a pang to your chest.