He froze when he saw her. For a split second, the mask slipped. Surprise. Regret. Something else—something softer.
They remained professional. Polite. Tense.
After the meeting, he asked to speak privately.
“That day… the test,” he said quietly. “Was it real?”
She could have lied.
“Yes,” she answered.
He turned pale. “What happened? Where is—?”
“That’s not your concern,” she replied. “You chose to leave.”
He admitted what she had once needed to hear: “I was a coward. I hid in work. I destroyed us because I didn’t know how to face my own fear.”
She showed him a photo of Noah in a park, holding a Lego dinosaur, grinning wide.
Ryan stared at it, hands trembling. “His name?”
“Noah. He’s five. He’s happy. He’s loved.”
“Thank you,” he whispered.
Months later, during a trip to New York for the project, circumstances forced Noah to spend an afternoon at Ryan’s office.
When Emily burst into the boardroom, panic flooding her veins, she stopped short.
Ryan was sitting on the floor in his expensive suit, surrounded by Legos. Noah was explaining dinosaurs with complete seriousness, and Ryan was listening as if it were the most important presentation of his life.