I studied Jared's sleeping face, my fingers brushing lightly over his cheek as his steady breathing filled the quiet room. His features were soft, still touched by innocence, but there was no denying it—the sharp lines, the shape of his eyes, even the faint dominance in his expression all echoed someone else.
Elliot.
A quiet frustration rose in my chest before I could stop it. "Why does he look like him? Can't he look like me?" I muttered under my breath, the words slipping out despite myself. It didn't make sense. He was my son, bound to me by blood and instinct, yet the resemblance to Elliot was undeniable, as if some unseen force had marked him.
Jared shifted slightly in his sleep, unaware that I was quietly complaining about him. The sight softened me, and I let out a slow breath, pushing the thought aside.
