Aurora thought she was prepared.
She had rehearsed the answers. Practiced her poker face in the mirror. Even spoken to a child therapist friend about what to say if—or when—Noah started to ask the inevitable questions.
But nothing, nothing, could have prepared her for the quiet way he asked it.
"Mommy," Noah said as he pressed colored beads into a string after dinner, "why don't I have a daddy like Liam?"
Aurora's heart stopped mid-beat.
She looked up from where she was sorting socks on the couch. The cartoon playing in the background faded into white noise.
"What do you mean, sweetheart?" she asked, carefully.
"Liam said his daddy takes him to baseball and fixes the scary monsters in the closet," Noah said, his voice soft, like he wasn't sure if it was okay to ask. "He asked me who does that at my house, and I said you do. Then he asked if I even have a daddy."
Aurora set the socks down.
It was happening. The moment.
She walked over and sat beside him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "You do have a daddy," she said softly. "You just haven't really met him yet."
His eyes went wide. "I do?"
She nodded. "Remember the man we saw at the park? The one who talked to you about ninja landings?"
"Mr. Blackwood?"
Her throat tightened at the sound of his name on Noah's lips.
"Yes," she whispered. "That's your daddy."
Noah was silent for a long time. "How come I never met him before?"
Aurora wrapped an arm around him, resting her chin against his soft curls. "It's complicated. Grown-up stuff. But he didn't know about you, baby. Not until recently."
"Did he miss me?" he asked.
The question hit harder than anything else.
"I think he missed you every day," she said honestly. "Even if he didn't know he was missing you."
---
Meanwhile, Damien stood in the middle of a luxury kitchen showroom he had no real interest in.
He'd told his assistant he needed ideas for a renovation, but really, he just needed somewhere to stand that wasn't his empty penthouse.
Lena approached him, tablet in hand. "Your lawyers called. The draft parenting agreement's ready, but I told them to hold off until you give the word."
Damien nodded slowly.
It wasn't about winning anymore. It was about earning something he'd never known he wanted until it was almost too late.
"Forget the lawyers for now," he said. "Let her set the pace."
Lena's brows rose slightly, but she didn't comment.
Damien turned away, staring at the marble counters like they held answers. "How do you connect with a kid who doesn't know you? Who has five years of life you weren't there for?"
Lena tilted her head. "You show up. Every day. You listen. You make him laugh. And you don't try to buy his love."
He smirked. "You sound like you've done this before."
"I helped raise my niece after my sister passed," she said quietly. "Takes more than blood, Damien. Takes consistency."
Her words stayed with him long after she left.
---
Two days later, Damien waited in the park near the sandbox, pacing beside the bench where Aurora had asked him to meet them.
She arrived ten minutes late—on purpose, probably. She was testing him. And he knew it.
Noah came bounding toward him, holding a crumpled drawing. "Look! I made a robot cat!"
Damien knelt. "Whoa. That's one cool robot. Does it have laser eyes?"
Noah nodded eagerly. "And rocket feet!"
"I like it. Can you show me how it works?"
They spent half an hour building an imaginary lab with sticks and sand and arguing about whether robot cats should have tails. Damien had no idea what he was doing—but somehow, it didn't matter.
Aurora watched from the bench, arms folded, expression unreadable. But there was a softness in her eyes that hadn't been there before.
When Noah ran to get water from the fountain, Damien approached her.
"I wasn't expecting him to be so smart," he admitted. "Or funny."
"He's always been that way," she said, her voice quiet. "He's… everything."
Damien nodded. "I want to be in his life, Aurora. Really in it. Not just weekend playdates. Not because I feel guilty. But because I'm his father. And… I think I'm falling in love with being that."
Her heart clenched. "I believe you," she said after a moment. "But belief doesn't fix the past."
"No," he agreed. "But maybe it can build the future."