The waiters had stopped pretending to check on her. The candles on the cake were nearly gone. Puddles of wax forming around the base. And still no one came. Not her father, not her so-called friends. Just Amelia Hart, the CEO’s only daughter, sitting in her wheelchair at the head of a 12 seat table meant for a celebration.

 That clearly wasn’t happening. She was about to leave when the restaurant door swung open and a man with a little girl walked straight toward her like they’d been looking for her all along. Amelia kept her eyes on the cake so she wouldn’t have to watch people glance at her the way they always did.

 Their gaze dropping to the chair before meeting her face. She dressed up tonight, ivory silk blouse, hair swept into a soft shinan, pale pink lipstick that made her feel almost like herself again. But no amount of polish could hide the truth. 2 years after the crash, she still wasn’t walking back into her old life.

 Her father’s assistant had said this dinner would be special. What she didn’t say was that special meant alone in a room full of strangers. Then came the sound, a light tap of small shoes on the hardwood, followed by heavier, measured steps. Amelia looked up. The man was tall, broad, wearing a dark henley with the sleeves pushed up, his forearms tanned and strong.

 He didn’t look like someone who belonged in this polished, expensive place. And yet, there was something about him that made him stand out even more. Beside him, a girl of maybe seven gripped his hand and scanned the room with open curiosity. The little girl stopped when she reached Amelia’s table.

 Are you all by yourself? Amelia’s lips parted, startled. I I guess I am. The man’s voice was deep, steady. Lily, don’t. She’s not bothering me. Amelia interrupted, her tone softer than she expected. Lily beamed. It’s my daddy’s birthday, too. Maybe we can share. Jack, that’s what the man introduced himself as. Hesitated. He looked like a man who’d been through enough to be careful with strangers.

 But then he pulled out a chair for his daughter, the corners of his mouth tilting up just enough to suggest he’d decided something. They sat and for the first time that night, Amelia’s table wasn’t empty anymore. For a moment, Amelia just listened, the clink of silverware, the muffled hum of the restaurant.

 Lily’s shoes swinging under the table. It was strange. Her table had been empty for an hour, and now suddenly, it felt warm. The waiter approached. eyebrows raised as if to ask whether this was intentional. Jack nodded once. Two slices of cake, he said, his voice low but steady. And a couple of lemonades, Lily turned to Amelia.

 Did you already blow out the candles? Amelia’s lips curved slightly. I did, but I can light them again if you want to make a wish. The girl’s eyes lit up. Yes, please. Jack gave an apologetic shrug. She doesn’t have a quiet mode. I don’t mind, Amelia said, and she meant it when the candles flickered again. Lily closed her eyes, whispering something no one could hear.

 Amelia watched her, feeling an odd twist in her chest. A mix of longing and the faint, almost forgotten joy of being part of something. “What did you wish for?” Amelia asked when the flames were gone. Lily grinned. “I can’t tell you. Daddy says, “Wishes only come true if you keep them secret.

” Jack smirked faintly, glancing down at his lemonade. “That’s one of the few rules I actually stick to.” Amelia tilted her head. “You don’t like rules? Some rules keep you safe,” he said. “Others keep you trapped.” Something in his tone made her curious. But before she could ask more, Lily was rearranging the cake slices so they touched. “Now it’s one big cake.

” she declared proudly. Amelia laughed soft and genuine, the kind of laugh she hadn’t heard from herself in months. “So Jack said after a beat, “Were you waiting for someone tonight?” Her fork hovered midair. “I was, but I guess they had other priorities.” His eyes met hers, not pitying, just understanding. “Happ more often than people admit.

” Amelia glanced at him, wondering what stories sat behind that line. There was a weight in his voice that didn’t belong to casual conversation. “Come to the park with us tomorrow,” Lily said suddenly. “We’re feeding the ducks,” Amelia opened her mouth to say no. The park wasn’t a place she went anymore. “But something about Lily’s hopeful face stopped her.” “Maybe,” she said softly.

Jack’s phone buzzed on the table. He looked at the screen and his jaw tightened just enough for Amelia to notice. Without answering, he slipped it into his pocket. Everything about him told her there was more to his story. And for the first time in a long while, she wanted to know. The next afternoon, Amelia almost didn’t go.

 The thought of navigating grass, uneven paths, and curious stairs had always been enough to keep her home. But Lily’s voice, bright, unfiltered, impossible to dismiss, kept echoing in her head. So she went. The park was alive with weekend noise. Children chasing each other across the playground. The smell of kettle corn drifting from a food cart.

 The faint strains of a street musician’s guitar. The pond shimmerred in the distance, flecked with sunlight. Jack was already there, crouched beside Lily as she tossed crumbs toward a pair of waddling ducks. He looked up when he saw her and for a moment, surprise flickered in his eyes, quickly replaced by something warmer.

 “You came,” he said, standing to meet her. “I said maybe,” she replied. “This is me turning maybe into yes.” His mouth tilted into the smallest smile. “Fair enough.” Lily bounded over, waving a paper bag of bread crusts. Here, you can feed them, too. Amelia wheeled closer to the pond’s edge, careful on the gravel path.

 Jack stayed beside her, matching his pace to hers without making a show of it. She noticed. “You come here often?” she asked. “Every other weekend,” he said. “It’s our thing, just the two of you.” He nodded, eyes on Lily. Her mom left a few years ago. Been just us since. There was no bitterness in his tone, only a quiet acceptance that told Amelia he’d stopped expecting anything different.

 Lily giggled as the duck squabbled over crumbs, and Jack’s expression softened in a way Amelia couldn’t stop watching. It made her chest ache in a way she couldn’t quite name. “Do you have kids?” he asked suddenly. The question caught her off guard. No, just a lot of people who think they know what’s best for me. Jack glanced at her chair, then back at her face, the way she wished more people would. Let me guess, they don’t.

 She smiled faintly. Not even close. For a while, they fed the ducks in silence. It wasn’t awkward, just easy. But then a voice cut through the afternoon. Amelia, is that you? She turned, her stomach tightening. Two women she vaguely knew from charity events were walking toward her.

 Designer sunglasses perched on their heads, eyes darting between her and Jack. “It’s been ages,” one of them said brightly, the kind of brightness that stung. “We didn’t expect to see you out.” Amelia felt the heat rise in her cheeks. Before she could reply, Jack stepped slightly closer, his presence steadying her. “Come on,” he murmured.

“Let’s get you somewhere quieter.” And just like that, she let him lead her away. They found a bench tucked beneath an old oak tree, the shade casting soft, dappled patterns over the ground. From here, the noise of the park faded, replaced by the gentle rush of wind through leaves and the occasional quack from the pond.

 Jack sat on the end of the bench while Amelia stayed in her chair beside him. Lily was still in sight, tossing crumbs and laughing, a streak of pure energy in the sunlight. You handled that well, she said quietly. He raised an eyebrow. The two women? She nodded. Most people either pretend not to notice the stairs or they notice and make it worse.

 Jack shrugged, eyes still on Lily. Stairs don’t matter. People don’t know your story. They don’t get to define it. She studied him for a moment. He said it like he’d had to believe it himself. You talk like someone who’s been through it. I have, he admitted. Different reasons, same feeling. There was a pause, not uncomfortable, just waited.

 So, what’s your story? She asked. He leaned back against the bench. I was working construction when Lily was born. Her mom wanted more. More money, more everything. I was never enough. One day, she left and I stopped asking why. My job, my kid, keeping a roof over our heads. That’s been my whole world since. Amelia nodded slowly.

 She’s lucky to have you. Jack glanced at her. What about you? My story. She hesitated. I used to work for my father’s company, events, PR, charity work. Then the accident. Drunk driver. 2 years ago. He didn’t say he was sorry and she liked that. Instead, he asked, “And since then, I’ve been existing. My father thinks I should stay out of sight.

Protect the family image. She gave a short, bitter laugh. It’s amazing how quickly people stop inviting you to things when you can’t stand in the photos anymore. Jack’s jaw tightened. Then they’re not your people. Before she could reply, his phone buzzed again. Same ringtone as at the restaurant. This time he sighed and answered, “Yeah, I told you not to call me at work.

” No, I’m with Lily right now. His tone shifted harder, clipped. Amelia looked away, giving him privacy, but she could still hear the muffled voice on the other end. When he hung up, his expression was different. Guarded again. “Everything okay?” she asked carefully. He forced a smile. “Yeah, just some things I’d rather not talk about right now.

” Amelia didn’t push, but she knew whatever that call was, it wasn’t nothing. And somewhere deep down, she wondered if whatever he wasn’t saying might be the very thing that could break this fragile new connection before it had a chance to grow. Two days passed without a word from Jack. Amelia told herself it didn’t matter. They’d shared a dinner, fed ducks, talked under a tree.

 Nice moments, but moments weren’t promises. Still, the quiet left a hollow ache she didn’t want to name. On the third afternoon, she found herself at a cafe downtown, the kind of place she’d used to frequent before the accident. She was sipping her coffee when a familiar voice caught her off guard. “Amelia,” she turned. Jack stood there, but not alone.

 “A cross the street, a woman leaned against a car, arms folded, glaring in their direction.” I was going to call, he said quickly, almost defensively. Her eyes flicked to the woman. Friend of yours. His jaw tightened. Lily’s mother. The words landed like cold rain. She came back sort of. She’s trying to get custody. Amelia stared at him.

 Custody? But why? She found out I’ve been taking jobs under the table to keep up with bills. He said, “She’s saying it makes me unstable. She’s threatening court and the phone calls her. Every time the pieces began to fit, the tension in his voice, the way he’d shut down. Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked quietly. Jack’s gaze hardened.

 “Because we barely know each other. And because I didn’t want you to look at me like that. Like what? Like you are right now. like I’m one of those cases your father’s company might write a check for and walk away from. Her breath caught. You know who my father is? Everyone in this city knows who your father is,” he said.

 “And men like him don’t exactly spend their time with people like me, unless they’re buying something from us.” She felt the sting of his words sharper because they weren’t entirely wrong. “Jack, I’m not my father,” she said. Maybe not, but you live in his world, and I’ve spent my whole life on the other side of that glass.

 Before she could answer, Lily ran up, holding a paper cup of hot chocolate, oblivious to the tension. Daddy, can we go to the swings? Jack’s expression softened for her. But when his eyes returned to Amelia, the wall was back in place. I’ll see you around, Amelia. And then he walked away, Lily’s small hand in his, leaving her sitting in the cafe with a bitter taste of coffee and words unspoken.

 Two weeks, that’s how long it had been since she’d seen Jack. Amelia had replayed their last conversation a h 100red times. His guarded voice, the wall in his eyes, the way he’d walked away without looking back. Her father’s words didn’t help. People like him will take what they can get. Amelia, you’re vulnerable.

 Don’t be naive, but she was tired of letting her father dictate who she was allowed to care about. Tired of letting her wheelchair be a cage. And most of all, tired of feeling like she had to stay in the world her father built when her heart wanted something, someone else. So, she made a choice. She found out from the cafe owner where Jack was working, a renovation project on an old community center.

 It was raining the day she went, but she didn’t care. She rolled up to the site, water spotting her blouse, hair curling in the damp air. Jack looked up from a stack of lumber, clearly stunned to see her there. “Amelia, what? You were wrong?” she said, her voice steady despite the hammering of her heart. He frowned. “About what?” “About me.

 About us,” she swallowed. “I don’t care about your bank account or your past. I don’t care if you’ve worked jobs under the table or if the world thinks we shouldn’t fit together. What I care about is how you look at your daughter like she’s your whole world. How you stood beside me when people stared.

 How you made me feel seen again. Jack was silent, rain dripping from his hair. And if you think I’m going to let your fear decide for me, she added, “Then you don’t know me at all.” For a long moment, the only sound was the rain on the scaffolding above. Then he stepped closer. Close enough for her to see the warmth breaking through in his eyes.

 “You don’t make things easy, do you?” he murmured. “Not for people worth keeping,” she said. A slow smile spread across his face. The first real one she’d seen since that night at the restaurant. And then, without asking, he knelt down so their eyes were level. “I don’t know where this goes,” he admitted. “But I want to find out.

” Amelia’s chest tightened in the best possible way. “Then don’t walk away this time.” He reached for her hand, rough and warm, and didn’t let go. Lily’s voice called from inside the building, and Jack glanced toward the sound before looking back at Amelia. “Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s go somewhere warm. Maybe split another cake.

” She smiled because this time she knew she wouldn’t be sitting alone.