Daddy.The word hits me so hard I actually stop walking.Zora’s breath catches beside me, her hand flying to her mouth.
I look at Ivy, who’s grinning at me like she hasn’t just changed my entire world with one word.“Yeah, Trouble,” I manage.“I’m coming.”
I push her on the swing, higher and higher, her laughter ringing out bright and unfiltered.Every giggle feels like it stitches something back together inside me.Zora watches us from a nearby bench, sunlight catching in her hair, her smile soft and real in a way I haven’t seen since we were kids.
I jog over when Ivy hops off the swing and runs toward the slide.
“Are you okay?”I ask Zora quietly.
She nods, eyes shining.“I’ve never seen her this happy.”
I smile.“That’s good.”
She looks at me then.Really looks at me.“Thank you for doing this right.”
I shrug, suddenly unsure.“She deserves it.”
“So do you,” Zora says softly.
I don’t know what to say to that, so I lean in instead.The kiss is gentle.Unrushed.Not desperate like when we are alone, not fueled by chaos or fear of loss.Just ...right.Her hand curls into my shirt, mine settling at her waist, and for the first time in my life, everything feels aligned.
When we pull back, Ivy is watching us with her hands on her hips.
“Ew,” she says.“But also, good ew.”
Zora laughs, wiping at her cheeks.“You’re impossible.”
“I know,” Ivy says proudly.
She runs back to me, grabbing my hand again like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Can we get ice cream?”she asks.
I grin.“Absolutely.”
****
Later, as the sun dipslow and the day winds down, Ivy falls asleep in the back seat, Bear-Bear clutched tight, thumb tucked into her mouth.
I carry her inside, my chest full in a way I didn’t know was possible, and tuck her into bed.She stirs just enough to mumble, “Night, Daddy.”
I freeze.Then I lean down and kiss her forehead, my voice breaking.“Good night, sweetheart.”
I step back into the hallway where Zora is waiting, her eyes soft.“She called you Daddy,” she says quietly.
“I heard.”
She steps into my arms, and this time, when I hold her, it doesn’t feel like holding on.It feels like home.
“We made it,” she whispers.
I press my forehead to hers.“We did.”
For the first time in my life, I’m not running.I’m not chasing fire or fighting ghosts.I’m right where I belong.And I’m never letting go.
