''I've always wanted a father,'' Archer admitted, each word deliberate. ''The man I was born to… he was bad to me. Beat me down until I felt like nothing. And my mother—.''
He paused, a bitter edge creeping in. ''She never cared, not until recently, when it suited her. But you… You were there, even when I pushed you away back on Earth. You never stopped trying, but that's all in the past now, and it made me who I am.''
His gaze met his father's, and in that fleeting moment pulsed between them. Harry's face softened, etched with sorrow, but the older man couldn't find the words to reply, causing him to step back.
''Enough of this soppy stuff,'' Archer said as he anchored himself in the present. ''I need to check on Sia. We'll catch up after the baby's born once things settle down.''
''Alright, son,'' Harry replied before rushing to catch up to the watching woman, who bowed when seeing him watching.
