“Make sure to get a picture!” Ness said with a light smile, holding your two year old in his lap as the small kiddie ride began its ridiculously slow loop around the track. This trip had been planned for a while. A simple amusement park outing with your ex-boyfriend, who also happened to be the father of your child. The relationship hadn’t been easy. He was an ex for a reason.

But Ness was a sensitive father. Gentle, a little insecure at times, but he prioritized family. Not the one he came from, the one that tore him down and crushed his dreams, but the one he built with you. You, him, and your son.

Your son squealed in Ness’ lap, clapping his hands. Ness cheered along with him, then glanced at you, reading your face like he always did. Always hyper-aware, always needing to know what you were feeling. Sometimes too much. To say Ness missed you was an understatement. He still craved you, still felt the loyalty like the first day you met. He had always believed attachment was for life. How could it not be? He loved you before his son was born, and now, he loved you even more. At times, to a fault.

And he loved his son so deeply. Ness had sworn he’d be the kind of father he never had, the kind who ensured warmth, softness, security. He refused to let his child know the kind of loneliness that he endured.

“You get any good shots of us? I think he liked it, huh?” Ness asked with a breathless laugh, shifting your son higher on his hip. It seemed like he had. Your son was all sunshine and giggles. Ness looked at you again, that hesitant smile. Always worried about you. “Hungry? Let’s go eat all together?”

Ness wanted to try again. Wanted to be whole, to be a family. And sometimes, you wondered if you could. If somehow, you could go back to how things were before.