While waiting, Thomas spent time with Lily—drawing at the kitchen table, museum visits, quiet lunches. The girl sat in the same chair her mother once had.
When the results arrived, Thomas didn’t open them right away.
“I already know,” he said.
99.99%.
Thomas looked at Lily—the familiar eyes, the same thoughtful frown.
“I should’ve known,” he whispered.
That Christmas Eve, the table at Harbor View held three chairs filled.
No empty space. No extra fork.
When the reminder buzzed at 8—Call Emily—Thomas deleted it.
For the first time in five years, he wasn’t counting minutes.
He wasn’t waiting.
He was home.
