The day had already been long enough to make me question why I hadn't taken a vacation in six years. My office was silent except for the low hum of the air conditioner and the faint tapping of my pen against the glass desk. Numbers, reports, emails, everything blurred into one meaningless stream of productivity. Anything to stop me from thinking about her.
Tiffany Hayes.
The woman I once called my wife. The woman who vanished from my life without a trace or explanation, leaving only a divorce paper signed with shaking hands and silence.
Now she worked here, in my company. Carter Holdings. My empire. I built it from the ground up after she left, poured my heartbreak into every deal, every late night, every ruthless decision. I told myself I'd moved on, that I hated her for choosing money over me. But the moment she stepped back into my building, all the walls I'd built cracked.
And then there was the boy.
Ethan.
A cheerful, curious little thing with a mop of dark hair and bright eyes that, God help me, looked a little too much like mine. He'd called me "Dad" in the lobby that day, innocent and unaware of the earthquake he'd started inside me.
Ever since then, his voice haunted me. I'd catch myself wondering what he liked to eat, if he liked school, if he had my stubbornness, or her warmth. It was madness, and I hated myself for entertaining it.
I was reviewing a merger proposal when my phone buzzed. An unknown number. Normally, I wouldn't have answered, but something, curiosity, instinct, fate, whatever, made me swipe the screen.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Mr. Carter!"
I froze. That voice. Small, cheerful, unmistakable.
"Ethan?"
"Yeah! It's me!" he said proudly, like he'd just solved a puzzle. "I found your number in Mommy's phone. Don't tell her, okay?"
I leaned back in my chair, caught between disbelief and amusement. "You shouldn't be calling people from your mom's phone without asking."
"I know," he said, his voice lowering into a conspiratorial whisper. "But I wanted to say hi. You don't sound mad."
I sighed, rubbing my temple. "I should be. But… I'm not."
"Good," he said brightly. "Because I think you're nice."
That made me laugh, something I hadn't done in weeks. "You think I'm nice? Most people wouldn't agree with you."
"Mommy says you're serious," he said innocently. "But serious people are important. Like superheroes."
"Superheroes?"
"Yeah! They don't smile a lot, but they save the world. You kinda look like one."
I couldn't help it, I smiled. "Do I now?"
"Uh-huh. You have the same face as my toy soldier. The one that saves everyone."
"Well, that's quite a compliment."
There was a shuffle, the sound of movement. "I built a rocket today! Out of boxes and tape. Mommy said it looks like it could reach the moon."
"And what did your mom say?"
"She said it was creative. But Lucas said it won't fly."
The mention of that name made my jaw tighten. I tried to keep my tone even. "And what do you think?"
"I think Lucas doesn't have imagination," he said with a little huff.
That made me chuckle. "Smart kid."
"Are you busy?" he asked suddenly.
"Always."
"Oh." His voice dipped, small and disappointed. "I can go."
"Wait." The word left my mouth before I realized. "You can stay a little longer. I could use a break anyway."
He gasped softly. "Really?"
"Really."
"Yay! Okay, then I'll tell you about my school. We learned about planets today. Did you know Jupiter is super big? Bigger than Earth and all the others!"
"I did know that," I said, smiling faintly. "Sounds like you pay attention in class."
"Sometimes," he admitted. "But today I got in trouble."
"Oh?"
"I drew during math."
"What did you draw?"
"My family."
My chest tightened a little. "That's nice. Who's in the picture?"
"Mommy, me, and…" He hesitated. I heard him shifting again, like he was nervous. "And a man who looks like you."
My pen slipped from my hand, hitting the desk with a soft thud.
"Like me?" I repeated, trying to keep my tone steady.
"Yeah," he said simply. "I don't really remember my dad, but Mommy says he's far away. So I thought maybe he looked like you. You're always nice to me, and when you smile, it feels like… like home."
There it was, that innocent honesty only a child could have. It hit harder than any business betrayal or loss ever could.
I swallowed hard. "That's… a good drawing then, Ethan."
He giggled. "You really think so?"
"I do."
"You sound sad," he said suddenly.
I blinked. "What makes you think that?"
"Because your voice went quiet. That's what Mommy does when she misses someone."
I didn't know what to say to that. So I said the only thing that came to mind. "You're very observant, you know that?"
He laughed. "Mommy says that, too!"
"Your mom sounds smart."
"She is! But she's been tired a lot lately. Lucas says work is hard for grown-ups. Is it hard for you, too?"
"Sometimes," I said truthfully. "Some days are harder than others."
There was a thoughtful pause. "Then you should eat cookies. Mommy says cookies fix bad days."
That made me laugh quietly. "Cookies, huh? I'll keep that in mind."
"You should! I can bring you some. Mommy bakes really good ones!"
The image of Tiffany in a kitchen flour on her hands, humming softly while baking,it nearly broke me. That used to be us. Late nights, shared laughter, and love that felt unstoppable… before everything fell apart.
"Maybe another time," I said gently.
"Okay."
A short silence followed, comfortable and strangely warm.
"Mr. Carter?"
"Yes?"
"Can I ask something else?"
"Of course."
"Why don't you have kids?"
The question hit me like a punch to the gut. I froze, caught off guard.
"I… I guess life didn't turn out that way."
"That's sad," he said softly. "You'd be a good dad."
The air in the room suddenly felt heavy.
"I don't think so," I murmured, more to myself than to him.
"I do," he said firmly. "You listen. Lucas never listens."
There it was again, that unfiltered honesty.
Before I could respond, I heard a faint voice in the background. "Ethan! Where did you get my phone?"
"Uh-oh," Ethan whispered. "Mommy's coming."
"Then you better go before you get in trouble," I said, smiling despite the ache in my chest.
"Okay! Bye, Mr. Carter! Don't forget to eat cookies!"
And just like that, the line went dead.
I stared at the phone long after the call ended. My reflection stared back at me in the black screen, cold eyes, expensive suit, empty office.
For years, I'd built walls to keep the world out. But one little boy had just walked right through them with nothing but laughter and innocence.
I leaned back in my chair, exhaling slowly.
What the hell was happening to me?
I'd spent years convincing myself I hated Tiffany. That I'd moved on. But now, every time I saw her son, heard his voice, I felt something crack open inside me, a feeling I didn't want to name.
My phone buzzed again, this time with a message from an unknown number:
"Sorry about Ethan. He must've called you by accident." Tiffany.
I stared at her name for a long moment before typing back.
"No problem. He's… a good kid."
Three dots appeared, then vanished. No reply.
I set the phone down, staring out the window at the city lights below.
Somewhere out there, Tiffany was tucking Ethan into bed. Lucas was probably with them, playing the role that should've been mine.
I told myself it didn't matter. That I'd moved on. That I didn't care.
But the truth was, for the first time in six years, I wasn't sure who I was anymore.
And worse, I wasn't sure if I wanted to stop that little boy from calling me "Dad" again.