“This is… for me?” Milo whispered, as if the idea was both too grand and impossibly ordinary.
Milo listened, thumbs worrying the hem of his shirt. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, the question compressed and bright. dad son myvidster upd
Claire looked at him with careful, honest eyes. “Because I thought it would be easier to keep watching you from afar. I wanted you to have stability. But I was wrong. Hiding things doesn’t keep people safe. It only makes them strangers to what should be theirs.” “This is… for me
It started on a Tuesday in late spring. The sun slanted through the kitchen blinds in long, dust-dotted bars while Dad leaned on the counter with a mug of coffee and a phone screen that buzzed with an old notification sound. Ten-year-old Milo padded in, hair still in bed-swirls, and peered over his father’s shoulder. Claire looked at him with careful, honest eyes