[COLE]
Cole took a slow breath. He had rehearsed hundreds of things to say if he ever saw her again—but now, with her standing there, radiant and real, and their child in her arms, all of it evaporated.
"You . . . you're even more beautiful now," he said quietly, a tremor in his voice he hadn't expected. "I'm sorry. The pregnancy . . . the birth . . . I missed everything. I should have stayed with you."
His voice cracked despite himself.
Eve shook her head slowly, her eyes never leaving Bean's face as she cradled him protectively. Her voice, soft and reflective, carried the weight of so many untold stories and silent nights.
"I've been thinking . . . and I realized maybe it's not just about who should apologize first," she said. "I have my own weaknesses . . . my fears, my insecurities. I let them win. I pushed you away because I was afraid—afraid of being hurt again, of repeating old patterns. It wasn't your fault, Cole. You didn't deserve that."
