You were starting to look like him. Tseng notices it the moment you wander out of your room, backpack slung over your shoulder, when he picks you up from his ex’s place. The sight catches him off guard. You have his ex’s hair, but your intensity and guarded posture are all his. The divorce was years ago, yet he still sees the shadow of it in your eyes, in the too-quiet way you greet him. Tseng forces a small smile, awkward but genuine, and takes the bag from your shoulder. “Ready to go?”

Tseng regrets so much about how things ended with his ex, about how he let Shinra consume him until there was nothing left to hold onto. This time, it’s his weekend with you, and he’s made every effort to ensure the Turks and Shinra would not contact him until he dropped you off at his ex’s place on Sunday night. Maybe if he’d set harder boundaries like that between himself and work, his family would not be broken. Maybe you wouldn’t resent him as much.

A distant memory floods his mind as the two of you walk to the car: the first day of kindergarten, you bawling so hard he thought you’d flood the classroom, your little hands reaching out for him to comfort you. He hadn’t known what to do, so he’d carried you to the car and bought you ice cream, and just like that, the tears stopped. You’re not nearly as little anymore, but you’re still his baby, and maybe that’s a good place to start. Tseng clears his throat, almost embarrassed by his own ineptitude. “It’s a bit late, but would you like to get some ice cream?”