Song for this chapter: Yahya - Happiest on the multimedia.

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Juls

After a long shift at the restaurant, I finally had some time to just... breathe. Ivy was sitting beside me in the car, her small legs dangling off the seat, humming a soft tune as we made our way back to my apartment. The city lights blurred past us, and even though I was tired, I felt a sense of peace wash over me. Days like these, when it was just the two of us, felt like small treasures.

Ivy's voice pulled me from my thoughts. "Uncle Juls, do you know what Tony said to me today?"

I glanced at her, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "What did he say, sweetheart?"

Her face lit up as she giggled. "He said that if I keep eating all of Bea's cookies, I'll turn into a cookie! But I told him I don't mind 'cause then everyone would like me even more."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Well, you are pretty sweet already."

She beamed, her cheeks glowing under the soft car lights. Ivy's happiness had always been something that lit up a room, and ever since she moved to Manhattan, it was like a new part of her had blossomed. I loved hearing her stories—especially when they involved our little restaurant family. Tony and Bea, they were like her cool aunts and uncles. Bea spoiled her with pastries, and Tony always had a joke or two up his sleeve to make her laugh.

"You know, Uncle Juls," she continued after a beat, her voice softening a little, "it's really nice being around everyone at Sapphire Haven. It's not just Mom and me anymore. I mean, I love Claire and her family, but here... it feels different. Like I'm a part of something bigger. Like they really care about me."

Hearing her say that hit me in a way I wasn't expecting. I kept my eyes on the road, but my chest tightened with emotion. Ivy had grown up with so much love from Sign and her close-knit circle in Washington, but to know that she was feeling this sense of belonging with us... it meant the world. It felt like we were building something real, something lasting, even if I still had so many questions about the future.

I smiled to myself, feeling a surge of pride and affection. "I'm really glad to hear that, Ivy. You're always a part of this family, you know that, right?"

She nodded, her eyes reflecting the glow of passing headlights. "Yeah, I know, Uncle. But it's just... different here. It's like I have all these people who care about me, like Tony and Bea, and even Borj. And I love spending time with you."

That last part, the way she said it so earnestly, made my heart swell. I reached over and gently squeezed her hand. "I love spending time with you too, Ivy."

She looked out the window for a moment, her small fingers playing with the fabric of her seatbelt. "It's funny," she said quietly, almost to herself. "I always imagined what it'd be like to have a dad. But I know you're not... you know. But you're the closest I've ever had, Uncle Juls. And I'm really happy with that."

I swallowed hard, my throat tightening at her words. I had known Ivy for such a short time compared to her life with Sign, but somehow, it felt like she had always been here, like this bond between us was always meant to form. And while I wasn't her father, not in the way I wanted to be, I was grateful for every moment I got to spend with her.

"Ivy, I..." I began, but my voice caught. I glanced at her, her face soft and open, waiting for me to speak. "You mean so much to me. And I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

She smiled, that bright, genuine smile that made everything feel a little lighter. "I know, Uncle."

We drove in comfortable silence for a while after that, the city's rhythm slowing as we neared the apartment. When we finally pulled into the garage, Ivy was still in her own little world, happily chattering about the latest antics at the restaurant and what she wanted to do tomorrow. I could listen to her talk forever, her voice like music in the quiet of the car.

As we stepped out, I held her hand, and she skipped beside me, her joy infectious. The elevator ride up was filled with more of her stories—about the funny things Borj said, how Sasha told her she could help with small tasks when she visited Sapphire Haven, and how much she looked forward to our weekends together.

By the time we reached the apartment, I realized something important: Ivy had found a family here, a place where she could grow and feel loved. And maybe, in some way, I had too. It wasn't just the restaurant or the team—it was Ivy. This bond we were building, it felt like the start of something that neither of us could have predicted.

As I tucked her into bed later that night, I brushed her hair away from her face and kissed her forehead. "Goodnight, Ivy. Sweet dreams."

"Goodnight, Uncle Juls," she whispered, already half-asleep, her tiny hand still wrapped around mine.

And as I sat there, watching her drift off, I knew that no matter what happened between me and Sign, or how complicated life got, Ivy would always come first. And I was more than okay with that.

The next morning, I was in the kitchen, humming quietly to myself as I prepared breakfast. It had been a while since I'd felt this good—waking up with Ivy in the apartment, her laughter still echoing in my mind from the night before. The morning sun streamed through the windows, and I couldn't help but smile. I flipped a few pancakes, then turned to fry some eggs, making sure everything was just right for her.

As I worked, something suddenly crossed my mind. I was turning 31 in two weeks, and here I was, still unmarried. I'd spent my twenties working, building the restaurant, making sure I had a future that felt solid, something I could be proud of. I'd focused so much on getting my life together, on fixing the pieces that I hadn't realized were broken until I'd really started to put the work in.

And now? I had this thriving restaurant. I had friends who were more like family. And Ivy—she was here, making me feel like I had some purpose beyond myself. But a family of my own? That idea seemed more distant now than it had ever been. I thought about marriage, having kids, and realized maybe I wasn't destined for any of that. Maybe life had other plans for me.

Maybe this was it. Ivy, my restaurant, and the people in my life—maybe this was what happiness looked like for me. And I was okay with that. I loved Ivy as if she were my own, and having her around filled my life in ways I hadn't even known were possible. Even if I was only her "Uncle," that connection was real, and I was content with that. At least, I told myself I was.

"Uncle Juls, is the food ready yet?" Ivy's voice came from the doorway, pulling me from my thoughts. She hopped onto a chair at the kitchen island, her eyes bright and eager.

"Almost," I said with a grin. "You're hungry, huh?"

She giggled. "Yup! You always make the best pancakes."

"Well, I aim to please," I replied, setting the plates down on the table.

We started eating, and everything seemed normal. Just the two of us sharing breakfast like any other morning. But then Ivy spoke, and her words threw me off balance.

"Uncle Juls," she began, her voice soft but steady, "I know about you and Mom. About the news that blew up last month."

I stopped mid-bite, my fork frozen halfway to my mouth. I stared at her, searching her face for some sign that I had misheard. But her expression was calm, and her eyes were focused, like she had rehearsed this conversation in her head long before bringing it up.

"You... you know?" I asked slowly, unsure of what else to say.

Ivy nodded, looking down at her plate as she spoke. "I knew all along. I just didn't say anything because... I figured you both had a reason for doing what you did. For not telling me." She lifted her gaze to meet mine. "I've always understood Mom, even when she didn't tell me things. Like... about my dad. I could tell from the way she looked whenever I mentioned him. She always got sad."

I felt a lump form in my throat as I listened to her. Ivy was only four, yet she was speaking with the wisdom of someone much older. And I could see the sadness in her eyes too, the same sadness that must have mirrored what she saw in Sign.

"Mom's eyes," Ivy continued, her voice quiet now, "they don't lie. She's been sad for a long time, Uncle Juls. And I know she doesn't love you... not the way you love her. She still loves him—my dad."

The air felt heavy between us as her words sank in. Ivy's ability to understand, to pick up on the emotions of those around her, was something I'd always admired. But this... this was more than I'd expected from her. She had known all along, and yet she had said nothing. She had carried that understanding in her heart without letting it spill over into the world.

"That's why," she added, her voice barely a whisper now, "I didn't tell anyone I knew about the news. Because... it's not something talking would fix. I just... I know Mom still loves him. Even if she never says it."

I didn't know what to say. I felt a wave of emotions crashing over me—surprise, sadness, and something else I couldn't quite name. Ivy was right. I had always known that Sign's heart was somewhere else, with someone else. And hearing it now, from Ivy, made it even more real.

"Ivy..." I started, my voice thick with emotion, "I don't know what to say."

She looked at me with those big, knowing eyes, and smiled softly. "You don't have to say anything, Uncle Juls. I understand. I always do."

My heart ached for her, for the understanding she had at such a young age. She shouldn't have had to carry that burden, and yet, here she was, being the one who understood more than anyone. I reached across the table, placing my hand over hers.

"You're a special kid, you know that?" I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Ivy smiled again, that small, brave smile. "I know. Mom tells me all the time."

We sat there in silence for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling between us. I didn't have all the answers, but what I did know was that Ivy's heart was strong, just like her mother's. And as much as I wanted to protect her from the complications of life, I realized that she already understood far more than I could shield her from.

In that moment, I knew our bond had deepened even more. Ivy wasn't just a child looking for love; she was someone who had given me more than I could ever give in return. And for that, I was grateful.

It was another busy day at Sapphire Haven. The usual rush—orders flying in, kitchen staff yelling back and forth, and the constant clatter of plates and glasses filling the restaurant with its familiar hum. I thrive in it, though. The chaos somehow calms me, gives me a sense of purpose. Still, today was different. Ivy was with me, tucked into her little corner near the back, drawing away like she always does when she visits. I glanced over at her between orders, catching her eye. Every time, she'd give me a quick smile, and I'd flash one back. It was like our own little ritual, a way to stay connected even when I was buried in work.

After a while, I slipped away from the kitchen to check on her. "Hey, Ivy, how's your masterpiece coming along?" I asked, leaning over her table. She held up her drawing—a garden bursting with flowers and little animals. It was colorful and bright, a total contrast to the hectic vibe of the restaurant.

"It's not done yet, Uncle Juls, but look!" She pointed to a figure in the drawing. "That's you, watering the flowers."

I chuckled, kneeling beside her. "Me, huh? Didn't know I was such a good gardener. Think I should quit the restaurant business and take up gardening full-time?"

She giggled, shaking her head. "No way! You're too good at making food."

"Good point," I said, smiling at her. "Maybe I'll just stick with cooking. But we could plant a real garden someday, how about that?"

Her eyes lit up. "Promise?"

"Promise," I said, standing up as Sasha called for me from the front. "I'll be right back, okay? Gotta go check on something."

Ivy nodded, already lost in her drawing again. As I headed back to the kitchen, I couldn't help but feel that familiar warmth in my chest. No matter how crazy things got, Ivy always had a way of making everything else fade into the background. She was like my little anchor, reminding me why I worked so hard in the first place.

The day rolled on, busier than usual. Orders came in non-stop, and I barely had a moment to catch my breath. But every time I had a few spare minutes, I made sure to check on Ivy. She never complained, just happy to be there, surrounded by the hum of the restaurant and the people she was starting to get to know.

As the evening rush finally began to wind down, Ivy tugged on my sleeve. "Uncle Juls, there's a lady by the door who looks like she needs help," she said softly.

I followed her gaze to the entrance. Sure enough, there was a woman standing there, looking around the restaurant as if searching for something. She was older, maybe in her mid-50s, with short gray hair that seemed to be regrowing, like she had been through something. Her clothes were simple, a light blouse and jeans, but there was an elegance about her. She had this quiet strength in the way she carried herself, something that drew my attention right away.

I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd seen her before. Something about her seemed familiar, though I couldn't place where from.

I walked over to her, trying to figure out what it was about her that struck me so much. "Good evening," I said with a smile. "Can I help you with something?"

She turned her gaze to me, and there was this softness in her eyes, like she had lived through a lot but wasn't weighed down by it. "Thank you," she said in a gentle tone. "I'm just... looking around. I've heard a lot about this place."

"Is that so?" I asked, feeling that same nagging sense of recognition. "Well, you're welcome to stay for dinner. We're winding down for the night, but we've still got a few tables open."

She smiled, a small, serene smile that didn't quite reach her eyes but somehow still conveyed warmth. "I think I'll do that. It feels like a good place to be."

I showed her to a table by the window, where she could watch the city lights flicker on. As I turned to head back to the kitchen, Ivy caught up to me.

"Do you know her?" Ivy asked, her voice quiet but curious.

I shook my head. "No, but she seems familiar, doesn't she?"

"Yeah," Ivy said, glancing back at the woman. "Maybe she knows you."

"Maybe," I muttered, still trying to figure out what it was about her that tugged at the back of my mind.

The evening moved on, and I checked in on her a few times, making sure she was comfortable. Each time, she'd smile and thank me, never saying much but somehow leaving me feeling like she was holding back more than she let on.

When the night finally wrapped up and the last of the customers filtered out, the woman approached me at the counter. "Thank you for your kindness tonight," she said, her eyes meeting mine with a depth that unsettled me a bit, though I didn't know why. "This place is special. You can feel it."

I smiled, though I couldn't shake the feeling that I should know more about her. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," I said. "Come back anytime."

She gave me one last smile, resting her hand gently on my arm for a brief moment before walking toward the door. As I watched her leave, I felt an odd sense of peace wash over me, like her presence had left a mark on the evening that I couldn't quite explain.

I turned to Ivy, who had been watching the whole exchange closely. "She was nice," Ivy said softly.

"Yeah," I said, still lost in thought. "She was."

As the door clicked shut behind her, I couldn't help but wonder if I'd ever see her again. Something told me that this wasn't the last time our paths would cross.