"Mom, is Daddy coming today again?" Eli asked as he bit into his toast, crumbs falling onto the table like snowflakes.
"Yes. He said he'd come by this morning. He wants to take you to the park," Aria replied, glancing at the clock. 9:12 AM. The morning light filtered through the curtains, turning the kitchen golden.
"Can we take the soccer ball?" he asked, already halfway out of his seat.
"If you pack it yourself."
"Deal!"
His little feet thudded against the hallway floor as he dashed off, his toast still in one hand.
Aria smiled to herself and shook her head. Some days it amazed her just how fast a child's mood could swing—from sleepy yawns to high-energy excitement in seconds.
Her phone buzzed on the counter. She wiped her hands and checked it.
Elias: Leaving now. See you in 20.
She stared at the message for a moment before locking her phone. She still hadn't figured out what to make of the ease with which he showed up lately. How steady he was trying to be now, like he was rewriting history one morning visit at a time.
Eli came back hugging the soccer ball to his chest like it was a trophy. "Do you think he'll bring the same snacks as yesterday?"
"Why don't you ask him when he gets here?"
He nodded thoughtfully. "Okay. I will. But I hope it's not the pretzels again. They were dry. Like… dry."
She laughed. "He was trying to be healthy."
"But healthy tastes like cardboard," Eli muttered, pouting.
"That's a pretty bold review."
"Well, I'm an expert."
A knock came a few minutes later. Eli was already sprinting before she could say anything.
"Don't—" she began, but too late.
"Daddy!" he shouted as he flung the door open.
"Hey, champ!" Elias bent down to scoop him up, ruffling his hair. "Is that the famous green shirt again?"
"It's my lucky shirt. We have to win today."
"Win what?"
"Our imaginary soccer championship. Duh."
Aria appeared in the doorway, arms folded. "You're early."
"Couldn't wait," Elias said with a shrug and a small smile.
She raised a brow. "Excited for imaginary trophies?"
He grinned. "And for the company."
Eli tugged his sleeve. "Let's go! I already stretched my legs."
"You stretched?"
"Yeah. I ran down the hallway three times. That's how pros do it."
Elias laughed. "Alright, pro. Got everything?"
"Ball, water bottle, backup snacks. I'm good."
"Backup snacks?" Elias looked amused.
"In case your snacks are boring again," Eli explained.
Elias turned to Aria. "Back before noon?"
"Ten minutes before. He has piano."
"Got it. Thanks."
As they left, Eli waved over his shoulder. "Bye, Mama!"
"Bye, you two. Don't cause too much trouble," she called.
They came back just before noon, sweaty and laughing. Eli's face was flushed, and his curly hair stuck to his forehead.
"He scored eight goals," Elias said, slinging the ball under his arm.
"Invisible ones," Eli added proudly. "But they count."
"Of course they do," Aria said, handing Eli a towel. "Good job, champ."
"He beat me fair and square," Elias added, catching his breath. "And bribed me with gummy bears halfway through."
"They were fruit-flavored," Eli said. "That makes them healthy."
Aria shook her head. "Go wash up. You've got ten minutes before practice."
"Okay!" Eli dashed down the hall again.
Elias rubbed the back of his neck. "That kid has more energy than a whole football team."
"You're just out of shape," Aria teased lightly as she poured him a glass of water.
"Probably," he admitted, accepting it. "But hey, I survived. That's a win."
They sat in the living room, the soft hum of the afternoon slipping in through the windows. Sunlight streaked across the carpet in golden lines.
"He likes spending time with you," Aria said after a pause.
"I'm glad. I was afraid... he'd be distant. Or confused."
"He's not. But don't disappoint him."
"I won't. Not again. I mean it."
There was a silence that wasn't uncomfortable. Just full of things neither of them had found words for yet.
"He asked me something today," Elias said, his voice quieter now.
"What?"
"If we were getting married again."
Aria blinked, the question catching her off guard.
"What did you say?"
"I told him I didn't know. That it depended on what you wanted."
She looked down, her fingers absently tracing the rim of her glass.
"He's been wondering," she said. "I can tell. He watches us like he's waiting for something."
Elias leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "I'm not trying to pressure you, Aria. I just—he asked. I had to be honest."
"Honesty would've helped a few years ago," she murmured.
"I know," he said, his voice thick. "And I regret it. Every single day."
Before she could reply, Eli peeked from the hallway, a towel draped over his head. "Are you two done talking seriously?"
Aria smiled. "Almost."
"Good. I need my piano coach."
"You got him," Elias said, standing up. "Let's hit those keys, maestro."
After practice, Elias lingered longer than usual. He hovered near the door while Aria packed Eli's sheet music into a folder.
"Hey," he said, almost hesitantly.
She turned. "Hm?"
He pulled something from his jacket pocket and held it out. A folded piece of sketch paper.
"What's this?"
"A sketch. You and Eli. From the other night. When he made you laugh so hard you snorted orange juice."
She took it slowly and unfolded it. It wasn't polished—charcoal lines, a bit rough—but it was honest. Warm. It captured something unfiltered: Eli mid-laugh, Aria with her head thrown back.
"You drew this?"
He nodded. "It was a good night."
"I barely remember laughing like that."
"You did. He made you laugh. And I hadn't seen that in a long time."
Her eyes lingered on the image before setting it on the console table.
"Thank you."
There was silence for a few moments.
"Aria," Elias said, voice softer now. "Can I ask you something?"
She didn't respond—just waited.
"If I keep showing up—keep doing this—being here, being better… do you think there's a chance for us?"
She sighed, her gaze turning toward the hallway where Eli's piano notes had faded.
"You're asking a lot."
"I know. But I'm not asking you to decide now. Just… to consider it."
"You want hope?"
"I want honesty."
She hesitated. "I don't know."
He exhaled slowly. "That's fair."
"But you can come tomorrow."
He blinked. "Really?"
"Same time."
"I'll be here."
She turned to adjust the sketch on the table.
"And Elias?"
"Yeah?"
"Bring better snacks. He wasn't impressed with the pretzels."
He smirked. "I was going for healthy."
"He's five."
"Gummy bears it is."
She raised a brow. "Not every day."
"Fine. Alternate days."
He smiled again, then paused at the door.
"You smiled today," he said quietly. "Twice."
"Don't let it get to your head."
He chuckled. "I won't. It was just... nice. Seeing that again."
She didn't reply, but she didn't shut the door either.
"Thanks for today," he added.
This time, after he left, she didn't move for a while. The drawing still sat on the table. She glanced at it again—not because of him, but because of Eli. Because of the way Eli had laughed so freely that night.
And somehow, even in all her hesitation, it sounded like a possibility.