The playground was lively, echoing with children’s laughter and the sound of their footsteps against the grass. Sireos stood near the entrance, her gaze scanning the crowd, until she saw him. Donovan, or “Shawn” as she knew him, stood quietly under a tree at the park’s edge, his posture relaxed yet his eyes sharp, tracking every movement of her daughter, Jenevanae.

Sireos took a steadying breath, her pulse quickening as she walked toward him. She knew that talking to him was an exercise in restraint—his responses were always short, his attention often drifting back to Jenevanae, as if she were the only one present.