"You've been quiet lately," Lucas said, casually. Too casually. Lorna looked up, blinking as if she were being pulled out of a fog. "I'm sorry—work's just been hectic. You know how it gets." Lucas tilted his head. "It's not just work, Lorna. You've barely touched your coffee. You keep zoning out. Is something bothering you?" Lucas watched her from across the breakfast table, coffee growing cold in his cup. Lorna was smiling, but her eyes were not meeting his; her gaze kept wandering to the window on multiple occasions, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her napkin.
Like smoke, the question hung between them.
Lorna paused. Her mind was racing with ideas: Michael's return, Jason's likeness, and her own growing guilt. Instead, though, she grinned. "We must take a vacation. Just Jason, you, and me. Let's go on a trip. In a sunny place. Reset a bit.
Lucas furrowed his brows. "A trip?"
Indeed. This is past due, don't you think?
He paused and then nodded, but there was a hint of doubt in his face. "All right. Let's get it done."
It happened on a warm afternoon when Lorna was attending a spa treatment and Jason was happily running circles around his godmother with sandy flip-flops flopping, cone in hand. They sat on a shaded bench near the boardwalk, laughing over who could spot the biggest yacht. Two days later, they arrived at an opulent oceanfront resort—a place meant to erase stress with endless blue skies, soft sand, and no reminders of reality. Jason was thrilled by the pool and the games, and Lucas made a show of unplugging completely, but Lorna still felt that ghost lingering.
The other way was Michael Hudson.
It was one of those last-minute rash decisions he made when restlessness gripped him, and he had come to the coast for a meeting. He wasn't meant to be present. He wasn't even meant to remain in the nation. However, something had prevented him from going out once more.
And his eyes froze as he looked toward the boardwalk.
A kid. Bright-eyed and curly-haired, he was laughing at something his guardian had said. His hands were moving with excitement, and his mouth was full of questions. The way the boy moved had a hauntingly familiar quality. His smile's form. The way his chin tilted.
Marjorie then raised her head and saw Michael.
Her eyes flared with shock.
Michael approached slowly, as if he were a man in a dream. With caution, he said, "Marjorie." "I was surprised to see you here."
Her posture was rigid. "Michaels."
Once more, his gaze fell on the boy.
Jason gripped his partially melted cone and turned inquisitively. When their blue eyes locked, Michael felt a change in himself.
He recognized himself.
when he was a boy.
as a male.
His mother's eyes were looking back at him.
"Who is he?" Michael asked in a voice that was hardly audible.
Marjorie paused, her instinct for protection taking over. "Jason. The son of Lorna and Lucas".
Like a war drum, Michael's heart pounded.
"Lorna and Lucas'...son?" He said it again.
"Yes," she replied. "She is now married."
However, the boy looked too familiar.
And Michael Hudson felt the firm ground beneath his feet start to crumble for the first time in years.