I was standing in the middle of my living room, cardboard boxes scattered around me, each one a piece of the life I was leaving behind. I folded the last of my clothes, my mind wandering to the new chapter I was about to start with Eric.

He wasn’t perfect, but he was steady, a man who had stitched together the torn pieces of my heart. The empty spaces that my ex-husband, Tom, had left behind were gradually filled with Eric's quiet strength and his unwavering support.

The knock on the door jolted me out of my thoughts. It was firm, insistent, and oddly familiar. I wiped my hands on my jeans, feeling a strange unease creep into my chest.

Who could it be at this hour?

I wasn't expecting anyone.

I walked to the door, my heart drumming a little faster than usual. When I opened it, I felt the world tilt slightly on its axis.

“Tom?”

There he was, standing on my doorstep, looking like a ghost from a life I had tried so hard to leave behind. His hair was messier than I remembered, his face etched with lines that hadn't been there before, and his eyes…

Those eyes were filled with a sorrow that I couldn't quite place.

“Linda,” he started, his voice rough, almost cracking. “Can I come in?”

I hesitated, my hand tightening on the doorknob. That was the man who had torn my heart out and stomped on it without a second thought. Yet, here he was, asking for something.

For what, exactly?

Against my better judgment, I nodded and stepped aside, allowing him into the space I had almost packed away.

Tom walked in slowly, looking around as if searching for memories, his gaze lingering on the half-packed boxes.

“Moving?” he asked, though the answer was obvious.

“Yes, moving into my boyfriend. Tom, what do you want from me?”

The mention of another man seemed to hit him like a punch. He winced slightly, then quickly masked it with a weak smile.

“That’s... that’s good. I’m glad you found someone.”

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. It stretched on, filling the room with a tension that had been absent for years.

“Linda, I… I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t need to be. I know I don’t have the right to ask you for anything after what I did, but... I need your help.”

He looked at me with desperation, that only comes from sheer hopelessness.

“The woman I left you for... she’s gone. She died two weeks ago.”

He looked away, ashamed.

“And I... I have a daughter now. Ava. She’s just a little girl, Linda, and I’m all she has. But I can’t do it alone. I thought I could, but I can’t. I need you.”

The man who had shattered me was now standing in front, asking for help—for his daughter’s sake. The irony wasn’t lost on me.

“Why me, Tom?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “Why come to me?”

“Because I know you, Linda. You have the heart for this. I don’t know anyone else who does.”

I could feel the ground beneath me shifting, the life I had carefully rebuilt starting to tremble under the weight of his words. Everything in me wanted to slam the door in his face, to tell him to find someone else.

But there was a small voice inside, a whisper of the woman I used to be, the one who had once loved Tom fiercely, the one who had dreamed of a family. And that whisper made me pause.