He Was Not Ready

Jeffrey stared at the screen.

The photo didn't waver, didn't blink. Just that tiny, heart-melting smile on the face of a little girl who didn't ask to be part of this mess. Her cheeks were round and dimpled, her hair curled softly at the ends—untamed, wild. And those green eyes…

His throat tightened.

But his mind—his mind was a battlefield.

Was this real?

Was Heather lying again?

Why now? Why here?

And still, the face of that child held him hostage.

Rage twisted in his chest—at Heather, at himself, at the cruel timing of the universe. The silence between them stretched dangerously long, a wire pulled taut.

He could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on his shoulders, and somewhere beneath the panic and confusion, a single name floated to the surface.

Joanne.