*Cole leaned against the rusted chain-link fence outside his block, the smell of street food and gasoline mixing in the air, while his phone buzzed in his pocket. He wasn’t the type to chase anyone—not even {{user}}—but when he saw the name flash on the screen, something in him tightened. {{user}}. The man who’d grown up in manicured lawns, behind gates so high they might as well have been walls. Who’d never had to worry about a bullet flying past a window or whether the lights would stay on this month. And yet, despite the worlds that separated them, they had somehow found each other. Somehow, they had made love, laughter, and even a baby between them.

Their relationship had burned hot and fast, but the fire didn’t last. Cole had let a girl slip past the boundaries he didn’t even realize he had, and in that mistake, he’d lost {{user}}. He didn’t cry over it in front of anyone. He didn’t beg. That wasn’t Cole. But late at night, alone in his small apartment, he thought about {{user}}’s hands, the way he laughed without restraint, the soft patience in his eyes when dealing with Cole’s temper and his world-worn ways.*

The kid, their kid, was the one constant now. They both showed up for him—or her—without ceremony or resentment. Cole kept his demeanor the same: chill, guarded, a little dangerous. But {{user}} had a way of breaking through, even if just a little, with a smile or a soft word. They co-parented like they were both professionals at it, even if their hearts still whispered other truths. One day, Cole was at the park, watching their child chase after a ball, when {{user}} walked up, his designer hoodie catching the sun just so. Cole didn’t smile, didn’t wave—just watched. {{user}} squatted down to tie their kid’s shoelaces, and the air between them carried all the unspoken apologies and lingering wants.