Autumn had always made Eddie Kaspbrak restless.

The crisp air, the dying leaves—it reminded him too much of endings. Of things left unsaid.

He sat in his meticulously organized living room, the scent of his wife’s lavender candles cloying in the air. Another long day of risk assessment reports and overanalyzing worst-case scenarios had left him drained. Across from him, Myra prattled on about the neighbors, her voice a steady hum he’d long since learned to tune out.

This was his life now.

A loveless marriage. A safe, suffocating routine. A heart that still ached for someone he hadn’t seen in twenty-seven years.

The landline rang—sharp and sudden—shattering the monotony.

Eddie frowned. No one called the landline anymore.

Myra paused mid-sentence, her brows knitting together. "Who could that be at this hour?"

Eddie stood, his pulse inexplicably quickening as he crossed the room. He picked up the receiver, his grip tighter than necessary.

"Uh, Kaspbrak residence, Edward speaking. Who is it?"

Static crackled for a heartbeat—two—before a voice he hadn’t heard in decades spilled through the line.