The air between them was thick, charged with things unsaid, and Jey Uso couldn't shake the weight of it. The words that came out of Nati's mouth—your son—echoed in his mind like a drumbeat he couldn't escape.

His gaze locked onto the boy clutching her hand. The little one was small, no more than five or six, with the same dark eyes that Jey had seen in the mirror for most of his life. His heart thudded painfully in his chest, and his palms began to sweat.

The boy stared up at him with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. He looked too much like Jey, and that sent a chill down his spine. His son. Jey had no idea what to do with that. How did you face the responsibility of something you didn't know existed?

Nati stood just a few feet away, her arms still crossed as if she was holding herself together in the face of something long buried. Her stance was defensive, but Jey could see the vulnerability in the tightness of her jaw. The same vulnerability he remembered from years ago, the one that had drawn him to her when they were younger, before the world took them in different directions.

"Why now?" Jey's voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper. He hadn't meant for the question to come out like that, but it slipped out anyway, filled with the same mix of confusion and hurt he'd been carrying around since the day she walked out of his life.

Nati sighed, her eyes flickering with a mixture of sadness and something else—something that Jey couldn't quite place.

"Because I couldn't keep running from it either," she replied. Her voice was quiet, but firm. She took a step closer to him, her eyes never leaving his. "He's yours, Jey. And it's time you knew that."

Jey swallowed hard, his throat dry. His mind raced, trying to process the situation. Years of avoiding the past had led him here, standing in front of the woman who had once meant everything to him, and the child who was—was his. How had he missed this? How had she kept this from him for so long?

The boy tugged on Nati's sleeve, pulling her attention away from Jey. She knelt down to his level, her voice soft as she spoke to him in Spanish, but Jey barely registered the words. His mind was still reeling.

His son. His son.

It was almost impossible to believe. It had been years since he and Nati had parted ways. Life had gotten in the way—his dreams, his family, all the things that had taken precedence over the woman who had once been his everything. He had convinced himself that moving forward meant leaving the past behind