Haru pushed open the door to the little corner café, the bell jingling like it always did on lazy Saturday mornings. Ichigo tugged at his hand, bouncing on his toes. "Papa, hot chocolate! With marshmallows!"
"Yeah...ok, coming right up," Haru said, his soft smile breaking through the usual tired lines on his face. Weekends were sacred—no office crunch, just him and his four-year-old chaos machine. Chris had the morning off for a study group, so it was just the two of them today.
The place smelled like fresh grounds and cinnamon pastries. Haru ordered—black coffee for him, small hot chocolate with extra marshmallows for Ichigo—then found a table by the window. Sunlight streamed in, catching Ichigo's wavy black hair as he colored on the kids' menu with the crayons the barista slipped him.
Haru sipped his coffee, scrolling absent-mindedly through his phone. Texts from Chris popped up.
Chris: Crushing this study session. Miss you guys already. Save me a pastry?
Haru: Got you a croissant. Ichigo's destroying marshmallows in your honor.
Chris: Tell the little dude hi from me.
Haru smiled, thumbs hovering to reply, when a familiar voice cut through the café chatter.
"Haru?"
He froze. That voice—soft, a little hesitant. He looked up, and there she was. Aiko. His ex-wife. Standing by the counter with a takeaway cup, looking almost the same as two years ago—long dark hair tied back, sharp eyes that used to know him inside out. She wore a stylish coat, city-professional vibe.
Haru's throat tightened. "Aiko. Hey."
Ichigo glanced up, bright brown eyes curious. "Papa, who dat?"
Aiko's gaze dropped to Ichigo, softening instantly. "Hey, sweetie. You got so big." She stepped closer, hesitant. "Mind if I… sit for a minute?"
Haru nodded stiffly, reserved posture kicking in. "Sure."
She pulled out a chair, smiling at Ichigo. "Remember me? I'm… Mommy."
Ichigo tilted his head, processing. He'd seen photos, heard the word, but real-life encounters were rare since she'd moved. "Mommy?" He looked at Haru for confirmation.
Haru forced a calm tone. "Yeah, boy. This is Mommy."
Aiko reached out, brushing Ichigo's hair gently. "You've grown so much. I love the dinosaur shirt."
Ichigo warmed up quick—kids are like that—chattering about preschool and Chris's pancakes. Aiko listened, eyes glassy, laughing in the right places. Haru watched, a mix of old hurt and new protectiveness churning in his gut.
"So… how've you been?" Aiko asked finally, turning to Haru.
"Busy. Work, Ichigo. Good, mostly." He kept it short, leaning back slightly.
"You look… tired, but good." She paused. "I heard you're seeing someone? A younger guy?"
Haru's jaw tightened. Small city gossip, or maybe mutual friends. "Yes. His name is Chris. He's great with Ichigo."
Aiko nodded slowly. "I'm glad. You deserve that." Her voice cracked a little. "I messed up, Haru. The affair… leaving like I did. I've regretted it every day."
Haru exhaled, dark brown eyes meeting hers. "We both messed up. But Ichigo's happy. That's what matters."
They talked—awkward at first, then easier. She was back in town for work, thinking of staying longer. Wanted more time with Ichigo. Haru agreed to think about it, protective but fair. No blow-ups, just grown-up words over cooling coffee.
Ichigo yawned eventually, marshmallow coma hitting. Haru stood. "We should head home."
Aiko hugged Ichigo tight, promising a visit soon. She looked at Haru one last time. "Take care, okay?"
"You too."
Outside, Haru held Ichigo's hand extra tight, mind swirling. The past had strolled in like it owned the place, but it didn't sting as bad as he expected. Maybe because his present felt… fuller.
Home by noon, Chris arrived early, backpack still on. "Heard you had an adventure without me," he teased, hazel eyes searching Haru's face. He could read him like a book now.
Haru set Ichigo up with cartoons, then pulled Chris into the kitchen. "Ran into Aiko. Ex-wife."
Chris's playful expression turned serious. "Whoa. You okay?"
"Yep. Weird, but… civil." Haru leaned against the counter, sleeves rolled up. "She wants more time with Ichigo."
Chris stepped closer, hand on Haru's arm. "How do you feel about that?"
"Protective. But fair, I guess. Kid deserves both parents if it's healthy." Haru met his gaze. "Talking to her made me realize… I'm over it. Really over it."
Chris's smile returned, soft and genuine. "Good. 'Cause I've kinda fallen for the current version of you."
Haru pulled him in, arms wrapping around Chris's slim frame. "Same here."
The kiss started gentle—comforting, reassuring. Then heat crept in. Chris's fingers threaded through Haru's messy black hair, tugging lightly. Haru backed him against the fridge, bodies pressing close. Lips parted, tongues brushing slow and teasing, drawing quiet sighs.
Hands roamed—Chris's sliding under Haru's shirt, tracing the slight athletic lines of his back. Haru shivered, palms settling on Chris's hips, pulling him tighter. Chris hooked a leg around Haru's, friction sparking through jeans—subtle rolls that built warmth fast.
They moved together, rhythm natural. Haru's mouth trailed to Chris's neck, kissing along the jaw, nipping softly at sensitive skin. Chris arched, breath hitching, fingers digging into Haru's shoulders. Shirts rode up, warm skin meeting in slow presses, hands exploring waists, chests, every touch electric.
The kitchen filled with soft sounds—gasps, whispered names, the quiet rustle of fabric. Chris's cheeks flushed deep pink, hazel eyes half-lidded; Haru's tired expression melted into raw affection. Time blurred, the world narrowing to just them—heat rising, connection deepening.
Ichigo's cartoon laughter filtered in faintly, pulling them back. They slowed, breaths evening, foreheads resting together.
Chris chuckled breathlessly. "Perfect timing, as always."
Haru smiled, thumb brushing Chris's swollen lip. "We'll continue this later."
Afternoon routine rolled on—lunch, park play where Ichigo showed off his swing skills, nap time. Chris read stories, voice animated, while Haru watched from the doorway, heart full.
Evening brought dinner—simple pasta—and bath splashes. Bedtime came with extra hugs; Ichigo asked about "Mommy" once, but drifted off quick.
At the door, Chris lingered. "You sure you're okay after today?"
Haru pulled him into one last slow kiss. "Better than okay. Because of you."
Chris blushed, smiling. "Text me when you can't sleep?"
"Always."
Haru locked up, leaning against the door. The ex-wife encounter had stirred old ghosts, but they felt faint now. Chris was the present—the future, maybe. And that felt damn good.