Present day…
Howard’s breathing quickened as he lifted the lid of the crimson box.
Inside lay a folded letter, yellowed with age. Beneath it—a pregnancy test.
Positive.
His knees nearly buckled. “Kira…” His voice cracked.
She nodded, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I found out after we moved. I wrote to you, Howard. I gave the box to my mother and begged her to send it. When I never heard back… I thought you didn’t want us.”
Howard clenched his jaw, rage and grief warring within him. “I never got it, Kira. I waited for a letter. I checked the mail every day.”
“I know,” she whispered, voice trembling. “I only found the box recently, hidden in my mother’s attic. All this time, I thought you abandoned us.”
The air felt too thick to breathe. “You raised our baby alone?”
She nodded. “With my parents’ help. A son, Howard. We have a son.”
The world spun. “Where is he?”
Kira glanced toward the street. “He’s here. In the car. Do you want to meet him?”
Howard had already moved past her, his legs feeble but resolute.
A blue vehicle was parked beside the curb. As he stared, the door opened and a man in his forties walked out.
Howard’s breath caught. The dude had eyes.
They stood motionless, absorbing a lifetime of absence in a single glance. Then, gently, his kid moved forward until he was at the bottom of the porch stairs.
“Hi, Dad.”
The word destroyed something within Howard. He staggered forward, arms opening before he could think, and they were instantly hugging.
“I’m Michael,” the man murmured as they pulled apart, both of them wiping at their eyes. “I’m a teacher. High school English.”
Howard repeated the name, tasting it like something sacred. “Michael… you’re a teacher?”
“We live in Portland now,” Kira said softly. “Michael and his wife just had their first baby. You’re a grandfather, Howard.”
