The Reunion
Two months later, Vincent arrived in Iowa, walking slower than he used to. The surgery had been rough, but he was alive.
The front door opened. Linda stood there — older, softer, but radiant.
And behind her, seven faces — curious, cautious, but kind.
Jacob stepped forward first, extending a hand.
“Hi, Dad,” he said simply.
Vincent’s throat closed. He shook his son’s hand, then pulled him into a hug.

For the first time in 26 years, he felt like a man — not a ghost.
