Chapter 8
The city park was livelier than I remembered. Children darted around the open field, their laughter echoing through the crisp afternoon air. Parents clustered near the benches, chatting or scrolling through their phones while keeping half an eye on their kids. I stood by my car for a moment, just taking it all in the kind of sight that used to mean nothing to me, yet somehow today it tugged at something I couldn't name.
I had spent the entire week buried in work. Meetings, calls, reports,the usual grind that made the office feel like a cage of polished glass and steel. But today, it felt different. I hadn't planned to be here. In fact, I'd promised myself I wouldn't get too involved. Yet, the sound of that small voice from the video call this morning kept replaying in my head.
"Please don't tell mummy."
How could I ignore that?
Ethan had said it with such earnestness, his eyes shining with mischief and innocence all at once. I told myself it was just curiosity that made me come. Curiosity and maybe a strange fondness for the kid. But as I stood there holding a bag of small toys, a remote-control car, a soccer ball, and a few superhero figures,it felt like something more.
I spotted him before he saw me. Ethan was by the swings, his small frame pushing gently at the sand with the tip of his shoe. The moment he saw me, his face lit up.
"Dave!" he called out, waving his hand so wildly I thought he'd lose his balance.
I couldn't stop the smile that broke out across my face. "Hey, champ," I called back, walking toward him.
He ran up to me, his laughter ringing clear as the afternoon sun. Before I could say a word, he hugged my leg tightly.
"You came!"
"Of course I did," I said, crouching down to meet his eyes. "Did you think I'd break a promise?"
He shook his head quickly. "No. But mummy says grownups forget sometimes."
That made me laugh softly. "Well, this grownup didn't forget." I lifted the bag slightly. "I brought something for you."
His eyes widened. "Toys?"
"Maybe," I teased. "You'll have to open it to find out."
He took the bag and rummaged through it like it was Christmas morning. When he pulled out the small soccer ball, his whole face glowed.
"Can we play?" he asked eagerly.
"You think you can beat me?"
He nodded with absolute confidence. "I'm fast."
"Alright, fast boy," I said, standing up and setting the ball down on the grass. "Show me."
He kicked the ball, and it rolled a few feet before stopping near my shoe. I nudged it back toward him gently, and soon, we were both chasing it across the open field. He was quick, darting between my legs, laughing each time I pretended to miss. For a while, I forgot everything, the company, the tension with Tiffany, even the nagging exhaustion that clung to my bones. It was just me and this boy with bright eyes and an unstoppable smile.
After a few rounds, we both collapsed onto the grass, laughing breathlessly.
"You're not bad," I said, catching my breath.
"I told you," he said proudly. "Mummy says I got it from my dad."
That one sentence hit harder than I expected. I froze for half a second, forcing a smile. "Your dad must be really good then."
Ethan shrugged. "Mummy doesn't talk about him much. She just says he was smart and funny. But I think he's somewhere far away."
I nodded slowly, unsure of what to say. "Maybe," I said quietly. "But wherever he is, I bet he'd be proud of you."
He looked at me, thoughtful. "Do you think so?"
"I know so," I said firmly. "You've got something special, kid."
He smiled again, wide and bright, and that strange ache in my chest grew sharper.
After a few moments, Ethan spotted the remote-control car. "What's this?"
"That," I said, "is our next challenge."
He gasped as I pulled it out of the bag. "Can I drive it?"
"Only if you promise not to run over my shoes again," I said, teasing.
He laughed. "No promises!"
We set the car on the pavement, and I handed him the controller. His fingers moved quickly, too eager for coordination, but the joy on his face made up for every crash and bump. The car sped toward a small group of pigeons, scattering them into the air. Ethan's laughter rang out again, loud enough that a few parents turned to look.
He didn't care. Neither did I.
After a while, he flopped down beside me on the bench. "You work a lot, right?" he asked.
I blinked at the sudden shift. "Yeah. How'd you guess?"
"Mummy says people who wear ties every day work too much."
I chuckled softly. "She's not wrong."
He leaned back, his legs swinging under the bench. "Do you like it?"
"What?"
"Work."
The question caught me off guard. I'd never really thought about it lately. I liked the challenge, the control, the success,but like it? I looked at him, small and sincere, waiting for an answer.
"Sometimes," I admitted. "Sometimes it feels like it's all I know how to do."
He nodded wisely, as if he understood more than a seven-year-old should. "Mummy says work makes her tired. But she still does it."
"She sounds strong," I said softly.
"She is," he said proudly. "But sometimes I wish she smiled more. She used to, before…" He stopped, his voice trailing off.
I turned to him gently. "Before what?"
He looked down, fiddling with the corner of his shirt. "Before I was born, maybe. Or maybe something else. I don't know. She just gets sad sometimes when she thinks I'm not looking."
I swallowed hard. The air around us grew still for a moment. I wanted to say something,anything, to ease that sadness I saw reflected in his words. But before I could, Ethan suddenly looked up and smiled again.
"Hey, want to race?" he said.
I blinked. "Race?"
He jumped off the bench. "To the fountain and back. Loser buys ice cream."
I couldn't help but laugh. "That's not fair. I didn't bring any money."
"Then you can owe me!" he said, already sprinting off.
I chased after him, pretending to try but letting him win by a few steps. He threw his hands in the air triumphantly. "Told you I'm fast!"
"Yeah, yeah," I said, panting. "You cheated. You got a head start."
"No, you're just slow!"
We both laughed again, and I found myself watching him longer than I should have. There was something about him,the way he moved, the way he smiled, that pulled at something deep inside me. I couldn't place it, but it felt familiar.
He ran toward the playground, climbing the small slide, and I followed with slower steps. Watching him play felt strangely personal, almost like watching a part of myself I didn't know existed.
When he came running back, his hair messy and cheeks flushed, he threw his arms around me without warning.
"Thanks for coming," he whispered.
The words hit me harder than I expected. I placed a hand on his back gently. "Anytime, kid."
He pulled back and looked up at me with a grin. "You promise?"
"Promise."
He smiled, satisfied. Then his gaze shifted beyond me, and I saw him stiffen slightly. A familiar voice called from a distance, sharp with worry.
"Ethan! I've been searching for you."
My chest tightened. I turned slightly, just enough to see Tiffany weaving through the crowd, her hair slightly dishevelled, her eyes darting around.
Ethan looked at me quickly. "That's mummy."
I nodded. "Go on, champ. Don't get her worried."
He hesitated. "Will I see you again?"
"Maybe," I said softly. "But remember our secret."
He smiled faintly. "Please don't tell mummy."
"I won't."
He grinned, then turned and ran toward her.
I stood there for a moment, watching as Tiffany knelt and hugged him tightly. Relief washed over her face. "Come on, let's go," she said, taking his hand.
They walked off together, her voice low and scolding but full of tenderness. Ethan turned once to wave. I raised a hand slightly in return before slipping away in the opposite direction.
As I reached my car, I sat in silence for a long moment. The bag beside me still had one toy left, a small action figure I'd forgotten to give him. I turned it over in my hand and smiled faintly.
For a reason I couldn't explain, that little boy had managed to carve a space in a part of me I thought was long gone.
As the city lights began to glow through the trees, I realized something quietly terrifying.
I wanted to see him again.