“No,” I whisper. “You’re a risk.”
He takes another step.
“Then let me be his future.”
That breaks something.
I flinch like he’s slapped me.
“Don’t do that,” I snap. “Don’t throw words like that around.”
“I’m notthrowinganything. I’moffering. Let me be more than the past. More than some headline. Let mestay. I can be his father. Iwantto be.”
“You don’t evenknowwhat that means!”
His jaw clenches. “Then tell me.”
“I SHOULDN’T HAVE TO!”
We both freeze.
My breath is ragged.
He steps back, just enough.
“You think I don’tachewith every second I missed?” he says, voice low now. “You think I don’t play every what-if in my head on a loop? I wasn’t there because I couldn’t be. But Iamnow. And I want to be here. Not for me. Not even for you. Forhim.”
I can’t breathe.
I back into the kitchen counter and grip it like it’s the only solid thing in the room.
Jav watches me. His voice softens.
“But I won’t force my way into your world, Kairo. I know what I am. I know where I came from. But I also know I can give him something real.”
I shake my head. “He alreadyhasreal.”
Jav’s voice doesn’t rise. But the gravity in it is crushing.
“He has half of real.”
Silence again.
And it’s worse than yelling.
Because it’s honest.
I cover my face with both hands.
“I don’t know how to do this,” I whisper.
He takes a breath. “Neither do I. But I’m trying.”
I nod, but it’s frantic. Disconnected. My mind is spinning too fast. I don’t want to cry, not in front of him.
“I need you to go.”
He doesn’t move.
