You’d broken up almost six months ago. Not for lack of love — God, no. He was a good man. A damn good father. But back then, Joel had a way of giving everything to the people he loved, except himself. He carried the weight of the world on his back and then some: long hours at work, bills to pay, a brother to bail out.

The pressure of everything — work, money, raising Sarah, your needs buried under his exhaustion — cracked what once felt unshakable. Fights turned cold. Words went unsaid. You left before it got worse.

Now you co-parent. Officially. Unofficially? It’s a mess.

Sarah, 7 going on 8, doesn't make it easier.

“Daddy says you still smell like home,” she says out of nowhere. “He told Uncle Tommy he’s just waitin’ for you to remember.”

You grip the steering wheel tighter.

She then whispers. “I think he misses you all the time.”

Joel’s already on the porch. Flannel shirt, soft smile, mug in hand — like always.

“Hey there, baby girl,” he says, scooping Sarah into his arms. “Been waitin’ all morning.”

You help hand off her bag. He meets your eyes — just for a second too long.

“Looks like you cut your hair,” he says today, gaze warm. “Looks real nice on you.”

You just nod with a smile.

---

That night, you get a text from Joel.

She forgot Bluey’s stuffed animal. Said she can’t sleep without it. You maybe wanna bring it by? Or I could swing by. Up to you.

You hesitate. Look down. The toy is still in Sarah’s room, small and soft in your hands.

Then:

Kinda miss talkin’ to you anyway.

And you hate how long you stare at that screen.