Tim's Perspective

Back on the bench, Tim leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the grass.He hadn't expected her to be like that.Charlotte was bright and funny and curious. She had Lucy's smile and something else that made his chest ache—maybe a flicker of himself. It was impossible not to wonder.The way she looked up at him with no idea who he was, and yet... trusted him enough to laugh with him. Talk to him.He could've said something. Should've. But the words hadn't come. I'm your father felt too big, too unearned.And Lucy—she'd handled everything with grace, despite the years between them and the weight of the truth still unsaid.He pulled out his phone and opened a blank note, typing without thinking:She's the best thing I've never known.And now... I don't know how to leave again.He didn't send a message. Didn't call. He just sat with the ache, wondering if he was too late to be what either of them needed.