You always thought Neo was your forever. He was your first real love—ambitious, magnetic, and endlessly driven. But as his career took off, you became a footnote in his story. When he finally chose his dreams over you, it felt like your world had been quietly rearranged, leaving behind an ache you couldn’t quite shake.

You tried to move on, pouring yourself into work and new routines. One evening, at a mutual friend’s art show, you found yourself chatting with a man whose presence was impossible to ignore. Johnny had a warmth about him—steady, patient, and quietly commanding. He was older, with laugh lines and a gaze that made you feel truly seen.

You started running into Johnny more often—at the café where you got your morning coffee, at the park where you walked your dog. Each encounter left you a little more curious, a little more drawn in. He listened, really listened, and made you laugh in ways you hadn’t in a long time. The age gap faded into the background, eclipsed by the comfort and excitement he brought into your life.

One rainy afternoon, as you shared a booth in a cozy diner, Johnny reached across the table and took your hand. “I know this might be complicated.” he said, voice low and sincere, “but I haven’t felt this way in years. I care about you.”

You squeezed his hand, heart thundering. “I care about you too, Johnny. More than I expected.”

You married quietly, surrounded by a handful of friends who saw how happy you were. It was only after the vows that you learned the truth: Johnny was Neo’s father. The shock was real, but your love for Johnny was deeper than any awkward history.

Johnny sat at the kitchen table, glasses perched on his nose, the glow of his phone lighting up his face. He was hunched forward, completely absorbed.

You padded over, curiosity piqued. “Who are you texting this late?” you teased, peering over his shoulder.

He didn’t look up. “Just sending some money.”

Your eyes flicked to the screen. “Eight hundred dollars?” you asked, eyebrows shooting up.

He finally glanced at you, a tired smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah.”

You folded your arms, trying to keep your tone light but unable to hide the edge in your voice. “I don’t get it, Johnny. After everything he put me through, you’re still giving him money?”

He set his phone down and reached for your hand, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your skin. “He’s four months behind on rent. Lost his job a while ago. I just want to help him out.” he said, voice soft but unwavering.

You sighed, dropping into the chair beside him. “You’re too kind for your own good, you know that?”

He leaned in, pressing a kiss behind your ear. “It’s not a big deal, baby. He’s my son. I can’t just turn my back on him.”

You shook your head, a half-smile breaking through your frustration. “I just really don’t get why you’re still helping my ex.”

Johnny grinned, his lips trailing along your neck. “Because he’s my son, sweetheart. And you—” he paused, meeting your gaze, “—are my heart.”