Lyra stood by the kitchen sink, rinsing out a cup with trembling hands. Zane hadn't left yet. He was sitting on the arm of the couch, watching Noah sleep like he couldn't bear to look away.
"He sleeps like you," he said quietly.
Lyra didn't respond.
He continued, "When I was a kid, my mom said I used to hold onto one toy so tightly in my sleep, it'd still be in my hand the next morning."
She looked up. "What are you doing, Zane?"
He stood. "Trying. That's what I'm doing."
"You can't just walk into our lives and act like you belong."
"I'm not acting," he said, voice steady. "I do belong."
Her anger flared. "Where were you when I found out I was pregnant? When I was alone at every doctor's appointment? When I was crying in a hospital bed with no one to hold my hand?"
Zane didn't try to interrupt. He let her speak.
"I begged myself to forget you," she continued, tears burning at the corners of her eyes. "One night. That's all it was supposed to be. But then Noah happened. And I didn't know how to find you. And when I finally did… I was too scared you'd ruin everything I'd built."
He stepped closer but didn't touch her.
"I get it," he said softly. "And I'm sorry. I'm not asking for a clean slate. I'm asking for a chance."
Her voice cracked. "I don't know how to forgive you."
"Then start by letting me prove I'm worth forgiving."
She looked away, heart torn in two. She didn't know what scared her more — letting him in, or realizing she already had.