The baby bore an unmistakable resemblance to him. As he stood there, the air seemed to thicken around him, making it hard to breathe. His mind raced, trying to process the surreal reality unfolding before his eyes.
The baby had his eyes—warm, hazel eyes that his mother had always said were a window to his soul. As the newborn squirmed gently in his mother’s arms, a tiny hand escaping from the swaddle to reveal long, delicate fingers, it was as though the child was reaching out to him, anchoring him in the chaotic whirlwind of emotions.
