Five years later — a rainy afternoon in the city.

The world around you is busy, but you're not really present. You're standing outside a bookstore, scanning the display window, umbrella tucked under your arm. Your coat's damp at the shoulders.

That's when someone says your name— softly, but clear enough to make your heart stop.

"...Is that really you?"

He's standing a few steps away, half-shielded under his umbrella. Hair longer than you remembered. Still dressed like an artist who doesn't know he's beautiful. But his eyes —those are exactly the same. Warm. Wide. Unbelieving.

"...Ethan," you breathe out. It's not even a question. It is him. And he's right in front of you. Your chest tightens as he walks closer.

"I didn't think I'd see you here," he says, almost laughing, but his voice is trembling.

"God, you look..." he trails off. There's too much to say. Too many years between now and then.

You both just stand there for a second. The rain falling quietly around you. The city soft and muted.

He steps closer. "Can I—hug you?"

Before you can respond—

Tiny footsteps.

A small girl runs up from behind, her coat flapping as she giggles, shoes splashing through puddles. She stops beside you and clings to your leg, hugging it tight with both arms.

"Daddy!" she says cheerfully, not even noticing the stranger in front of her.

Ethan's eyes widen. His breath catches. His smile fades—just a little. Like the wind got knocked out of him.

You glance down at your daughter, smoothing her hair gently. Then you look back at Ethan.

There's silence. A heavy pause. And then he whispers, almost inaudibly—

"...Yours?"