Scene: Ozaire's Set with Oliver
It had been a week since Ophira returned to college, the weight of her absence settling into the quiet of the apartment. I missed her, of course, but the arrangement had felt right. She needed to find her space again, to rediscover her own path—especially with the Olympics coming up. I was proud of her. But that didn't mean I wasn't adjusting to life with Oliver full-time.
Today, Oliver was coming with me to the set of my upcoming movie. It was a bustling environment, full of lights, camera equipment, and the low hum of anticipation as we prepared for the next scene. My team was used to me showing up with an energy that could move mountains. But today, there was something extra—something in the weight of Oliver sleeping in my arms.
I walked into the set with him wrapped securely in the baby carrier, the tiny breaths against my chest steady and calm. My team took one look at me and paused.
"Is that…?" The sound engineer raised an eyebrow.
"That's Oliver," I said, smiling down at my son, who was blissfully unaware of the small crowd around us. "Ophira's back in college, and it's just me and him today."
The crew burst into smiles. The makeup artist, Tina, was the first to approach, her hands reaching out. "Can I hold him?"
"Of course." I carefully passed Oliver into her arms, watching her face light up. She had two kids of her own, so the instinct was immediate. Oliver, ever the charmer, immediately reached out for her necklace, gurgling softly.
We settled into the set, and I moved between shots, holding Oliver between scenes, bouncing him gently to keep him calm while the cameras rolled.
He was a surprisingly content baby, just like Ophira. Nothing seemed to phase him—loud noises, bright lights, the frenzy of activity. It was as if he trusted me completely, and I couldn't help but marvel at the way he could make even the most chaotic day feel centered.
During a break, one of the assistant directors approached me, eyeing Oliver carefully as he cooed softly. "You're really doing it, huh?" she asked. "Balancing dad life with movie star life."
I shrugged, a modest grin tugging at my lips. "It's all about priorities."
Oliver yawned, his tiny mouth opening in a wide stretch, before falling back asleep against my chest. I paused, looking down at him, and my heart swelled with something unspoken. It wasn't just the fatherly love I felt—it was a quiet promise. I wanted to give him everything. And I would.
After a while, I took a break to check on my phone. I saw a message from Ophira—just a quick check-in, asking how Oliver and I were doing.
I smiled and typed back. "We're good. Busy, but good. He's with me on set today. You'd be proud of how chill he is."
I hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen before adding: "I miss you, though. It's weird without you here."
I sent the message before returning to set, but my mind lingered on her—on how everything had changed in the last few months. Despite the unspoken bond, there were still things left unsaid. Yet, seeing Oliver and feeling the deepening connection between us, I realized that we had become something more than co-parents. We were partners in this strange, new journey of life.
Just then, the quiet sound of Oliver's cries cut through the air. I glanced around, trying to figure out what to do, but I couldn't focus—he wasn't calming down, and the crew didn't seem to have the magic touch.
"Call my wife," I said, glancing up from the set where I was perched on a ladder. "Take my phone and dial the number under Ophira's name."
The assistant director quickly grabbed my phone from my bag, fumbling slightly before unlocking it and hitting the call button. Within moments, her face appeared on the screen—tired but radiant, even through the pixelated glow of a video call.
Oliver's cries softened the moment he heard her voice.
"Hello, Ozaire?" she said, then her eyes darted to the screen, widening as she saw Oliver's tear-streaked face. Her voice immediately shifted into something softer, warmer, instinctive.
"Oh, hello baby," she cooed. "What's going on, huh?"
Oliver's cries faltered the moment he heard her voice. He blinked, confused at first, but then let out a small, wobbly coo in response.
His bottom lip was still trembling, but the distress already fading. It was like he recognized her even through the screen—like her voice alone was enough to settle the storm inside him.
"Have you been good with Daddy?" she asked gently, her smile blooming as she watched him sniffle.
Oliver babbled something incoherent in response, his tiny hands reaching toward the screen as if he could touch her.
I climbed down from the ladder and made my way over. The assistant director handed me the phone with an awkward little smile, which I returned with a nod of thanks.
"Ozaire," she said gently.
I picked up Oliver from the makeup artist's arms and sat in a quiet corner of the studio, angling the phone so Oliver could see her again. He reached for the screen, his pudgy fingers leaving a smudge as he tried to grab her face.
"I think he just missed his mama," I murmured, brushing a hand over his fine hair.
Her smile warmed through the screen, soft and knowing. "Of course he did. He's a smart boy."
I glanced at her, then back at Oliver. My hand tightened a little around him, instinctively protective. There was something about seeing them separated by glass and signal that made me feel that strange ache again—the one that came when something precious wasn't quite within reach.
"And I might've missed you too," I said before I could talk myself out of it. My voice was low, hesitant, not a confession exactly… but something close.
She blinked, slow and thoughtful. Her lips parted slightly in surprise. The air between us thickened, even through the distance of a video call. But she didn't look away.
Instead, she leaned in just a little, her eyes softer now. "Then I'll come home soon."
That word—home—lingered.
She didn't say she'd come back to the condominium. She said home.
And I knew what she meant.
She meant us.
As the day wore on, I found myself focused less on the lights and the lines I had to deliver and more on the weight of Oliver in my arms.
The set didn't feel so loud anymore. The world didn't feel as overwhelming. With Oliver with me, everything felt like it had more meaning, more purpose.
At the end of the day, when the final shot was taken and the crew started packing up, I walked out into the fading light of evening, Oliver safely nestled in his carrier against my chest.
As the sky darkened, I couldn't help but feel that, maybe, just maybe, this new path I was walking with Oliver was exactly where I was supposed to be.