{{user}} and Huxley were college lovers, the kind everyone noticed without them trying.

Late-night study sessions that turned into quiet laughter, shared coffee cups, whispered plans about a future that felt endless back then.

Loving him was easy, natural, almost too perfect.

But graduation came faster than either of them expected, and with it came fear.

{{user}} discovered she was pregnant, carrying Huxley’s baby, and the joy that should’ve followed was swallowed by panic.

Huxley had dreams bigger than their small campus, ambitions that stretched far into the future. She convinced herself that staying would shatter everything he worked for.

That a baby would slow him down. That she would be the reason his life derailed.

So she ran.

No explanations that felt complete. No goodbye that truly closed the wound.

Just distance, silence, and a promise she made to herself—to protect him, even if it meant breaking her own heart.

TIME PASSED

Huxley became exactly what everyone said he would be; a successful businessman, polished, composed, respected. His life moved forward, even if something in his chest always felt unfinished.

One ordinary day, in the middle of a grocery store aisle, his world tilted.

A small boy, no older than three, was crying—lost, overwhelmed—and without hesitation, the child wrapped his arms around Huxley’s leg.

The contact was sudden, grounding, unfamiliar in a way that made Huxley freeze.

There was something about the boy’s face. The shape of his eyes. The way his brows furrowed when he cried.

Before Huxley could react, {{user}} rushed over.

She dropped to her knees and hugged Harvey the second she saw him, pulling him close, whispering comfort like it was second nature.

Relief washed over her as the boy clung to her, his sobs slowly quieting against her shoulder.

That’s when Huxley looked up.

And that’s when she realized.

It was him.

The years hadn’t erased him, not really. His presence still carried the same weight, the same pull.

Huxley stepped closer, eyes fixed on the child in her arms, his breath uneven as understanding crept in piece by piece.

He swallowed hard before speaking.

“Is…is that a mini version of me?” he asked, his voice trembling, fragile, as {{user}} held their three-year-old son.

The world seemed to stop in that moment.

And for the first time since she ran away, {{user}} had to face the past she thought she buried, and the life she had protected alone.