My chest tightened instantly.
It was shaky, but clear enough. Oak. Avian. Me. Ciarán. His face when Avian told him. Him storming off. Me yelling after him with Olivia in my arms.
The caption read:
“Whew... so Jordin been cheating on her husband with Ciarán? This messy af. She for the streets lmao.”
My blood ran cold. I scrolled, and a comment stabbed at me: "Deadbeat dad and a side chick mama." My vision blurred. This was our deepest hurt, our most private moment, packaged as messy gossip for the world to chew on.
“What the fuck—” I couldn’t even finish.
Nia gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Oak sat up, looking at me with narrowed eyes likeoh shit.
But neither of them were looking at the phone. I turned and found him behind me.
Ciarán. Dressed in a black polo shirt, black pants, and black and red Jordans. His line-up was fresh, beard perfection.
Standing right in the doorway.
Too fine to look so damn broken and tired. Tattoos still peeking out beneath his sleeves. That cocky smirk he used towear was gone though. Replaced by something... else. It made me feel sad for him when I should’ve felt anything but.
“Long time no see. Well, sort of.”
My whole body locked up.
I wasn’t ready. No part of me was ready, though I knew this day would come. But I thought I’d at least get a phone call first—not him dropping his irksome ass into the same space as me after he ran from me not three days earlier.
He kept talking. Stepping inside, voice rough and low.
“I had a plan,” he said, dragging his hand over his beard. “I was gonna get all these mental health evaluations done. Prove to you and everybody that I could be trusted with my daughter. I was gonna use my mental health as an excuse... to explain why I disappeared. Try to make it sound good.”
He laughed softly, but it was filled with lemon-type bitterness. “I bought her a car too... but then I was thinking she’s four. She can’t fucking drive. And in 12 years she’ll need a new car anyway because my child will only have the best and newest.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Oak’s lips twitch like he wanted to say something or smile, but he didn’t interrupt.
Ciarán went on, eyes flickering between us, his voice breaking down little by little.
“I went to my daddy’s grave. Prayed on being a father. You know that ain’t even my thing. I ain’t hear shit, no holy voice or nothing like people say you’re supposed to... but I felt my momma. And I just knew... I knew she would be ashamed of me because I ruined everything—the only thing I had good and for no reason.”
I pressed my lips together so tight they hurt.
“And then I saw that TikTok.” He shook his head, his lips curling like the shit disgusted him. “Watching myself run away... watching myself behave like a fucking coward? Erased everything else I planned to do before I came to you.”
He looked at me. Not through me. Not over me. Dead-ass at me.
“That’s why I’m here,” he finished. His chest rose and fell heavy. “So where do I even start? How do I get you to forgive me? You too, Oak,” he added, glancing at him. “I owe you an apology... and a thank you, ‘cause I know you took over when I fumbled and I know my child is good and been good because you were there, old man.”
He was trying to lighten the tension, but to me, the room felt tighter than a jab could loosen.
Oak spoke up. Voice low. Cool but with something like understanding underneath.
“Start by asking her name.”
Ciarán frowned, looking confused.
“Our daughter,” Oak said. “Her name’s Olivia.”
The moment he said her name, I swear time slowed. Or at least Ci looked like he slowed.
