Natalie didn’t believe in fate. She believed in bad luck, bad choices, bad men, the holy trinity that had stitched up her life. She believed in burning out, same as anything left too long under a heavy sky.

And yet, here they were.

The kid had the same wired tension as Travis, hands locked in their lap like they were keeping the wreckage inside. But the rest? That was pure Natalie.

Natalie took a slow drag off her cigarette, the filter soggy. She leaned against the rail, watching them sit on the curb below, hood up, knees drawn in. Too young for this.

The truth was, Natalie barely remembered the night they were conceived. Some motel in some nowhere town, her and Travis high out of their minds, chasing something they could never name. And sometime in the mess, {{user}} happened.

She hadn’t known. Not for a long time. Too strung out, too checked out. By the time someone told her, it was already too late to be anything like a mother.

Now here they were, looking up at her like a question she didn’t have an answer to.

Natalie flicked the cigarette over the railing, watched the ember arc and snuff out on the pavement. She forced herself down the stairs.

They didn’t say anything when she sat beside them. Good. Silence was easier. Words were landmines with kids like this.

She pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from her jacket, offered one without speaking. They took it, not meeting her eyes. Good again. She wasn’t ready for that kind of weight.

They lit up. Smoked like they'd been doing it for years.

Natalie rested her arms on her knees and stared at the road.

How do you explain yourself to someone who shouldn't even exist? How do you apologize for being a human disaster?

She thought of Travis, how he might've laughed, or stared at the ground the way he always did when things got too real. He hadn't been built for fatherhood either.

Not that it mattered now. He was gone. Buried somewhere out west. Natalie hadn’t gone to the funeral. She hadn't even heard about it until months later. Maybe she wouldn’t have gone even if she had.