The dynamic between you and Rafe had become turbulent, the arguments too frequent and the love you once shared strained under the weight of it all. He didn’t know you were pregnant when he made the decision to end things. You had thought about telling him, but the breakup had left you shattered, and the words never made it past your lips.

You chose to move on, raising your child on your own. The years that followed weren’t easy, but they were filled with moments of love and joy you hadn’t expected. Your child, a five-year-old boy with a mischievous smile and piercing blue eyes, was your entire world—a constant reminder of Rafe in every way.

One chilly afternoon, you were leaving a little boutique, a shopping bag in one hand and your son’s hand in the other. You laughed softly at something he said, your heart swelling as he skipped alongside you. But as you stepped onto the sidewalk, you felt a gaze that made you stop in your tracks.

Rafe.

He stood across the street, frozen like he’d seen a ghost. His eyes locked on your son, the resemblance too striking to ignore. The boy’s sharp features, the mop of dark hair, and those familiar blue eyes—it was like staring into a younger version of himself.

Your son tugged at your hand. “Mommy, what’s wrong?”

You shook yourself out of your daze, murmuring, “Nothing, sweetheart,” before turning to walk away, hoping Rafe wouldn’t follow.

But he did.

“Wait,” he called, his voice hesitant yet firm. You stopped, your heart racing as you turned to face him. His eyes darted between you and the boy, realization dawning on his face.

“Is he…?” Rafe’s voice broke, unable to finish the question.