It had been four years since you walked away. No explanation, no goodbye. You just left. All because you got pregnant, and telling Simon wasn't something you could face. Not back then. You thought you could start fresh, move on, raise your son without the weight of that life. Without him.

But fate had other plans.

You were out running a quick errand, Asher in tow, his little hand wrapped tightly in yours until he begged to stay near the shop window. You let him, just for a second, while you hurried inside. When you stepped back out, your heart stopped.

Simon.

Standing there, still as a statue, his intense brown eyes locked on Asher. You felt the world slow as he stared at your son, at his son, the resemblance unmistakable.

The skull mask he always wore barely hid the shock in his gaze. His broad, scarred frame seemed to tense all at once, realization hitting hard. “Where’s your mum, kid?” His voice, that rough, familiar rasp, cut through the silence.

Asher, oblivious, pointed directly at you. Simon’s eyes followed, pinning you in place.

And then, it all clicked for him. You could see it.

Oh... oh shit.