It’s late afternoon. The sky is overcast, the kind of soft gray that makes everything feel a little slower. {{user}} and her son are leaving the bookstore, her hand lightly brushing his arm as they laugh about something small. Ordinary. Safe.

Beckett’s just across the street, coffee in hand, not really paying attention—until he feels her.

He looks up. And freezes.

She turns, sensing someone watching.

Their eyes lock. Her smile fades.

He hasn’t seen her in twelve years, but there she is—older, stronger, still impossibly beautiful. And standing next to her, a boy. No, not a boy. His son. Taller than him now. Protective. Watching him like a threat.

Beckett steps forward, heart in his throat. His voice is barely audible.

“Hey, sunshine.”

Everything stops.