FLASHBACK: 16 Years Ago
Sebastian Ashford – Age 16
Location: An apartment too cold, with a crib too small
She left on a Tuesday.
No goodbye.
No fight.
No guilt.
Just a scribbled note on the counter and an open closet with all her designer bags gone.
"I can't do this. I'm not made to be a mom. I need more than crying and bottles and being broke. She'll be better off with you—at least you care."
—Rain.
I stood there in the silence, staring at the crib. Sky was barely a month old. A tiny thing—she couldn't even hold her own head up yet.
I wasn't ready.
God, I wasn't ready.
I was a kid with calloused hands from part-time jobs and bags under my eyes from trying to juggle school and formula money. I had no degree. No future. Just a baby in a blanket that still smelled like her.
My chest burned.
She stirred. Her little lip wobbled. Her eyes opened—huge and clear and soft, like the rain just outside the window.
And I cracked.
I picked her up with shaking hands, still clumsy from inexperience. Her fingers curled around one of mine, so small they barely closed around the knuckle.
"I don't know what the hell I'm doing," I whispered to her. "But I swear to God, I'll never leave you."
She didn't understand, of course. She just yawned, and somehow that made the tears spill over.
"I'm all you have now, baby girl."
I rocked her back and forth, whispering promises I wasn't sure I could keep—but I would die trying.
I called my part-time boss. Quit on the spot. Took a second job as a night guard at some dodgy warehouse. Got expelled for missing too many classes. Didn't matter.
She mattered.
The first time she smiled, I knew I was ruined. No girl. No deal. No future that didn't have her in it could ever compare.
Rain left us.
But Sky saved me.