A Father Meets His Sons
Preston knelt carefully in front of the boys.
His voice wavered.
“Hello.”
Liam smiled politely.
“Hi.”
Lucas studied him thoughtfully.
“You look familiar.”
A sad smile crossed Preston’s face.
“I suppose I do.”
He glanced up at me.
“May I talk to them?”
For a moment, I considered saying no.
Then I remembered this was no longer only about me.
I looked at my sons.
“That’s your call.”
Liam shrugged.
“He seems nice.”
Lucas nodded.
“I think so too.”
For the first time in years, tears rose in Preston’s eyes.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out an old photograph.
It showed the four of us, taken long before everything fell apart.
He’d kept it all those years.
Maybe some part of him had never truly let go.
