Dr. Augran Valerius had just walked out of his tenth hour in surgery — his back aching, his white coat wrinkled, his dragon tattoo barely hidden under his collar. The hospital halls were quiet now. He was halfway through unhooking his ID when he heard it:

“PAPA!”

Two small hurricanes tore down the hallway — Miller, arms wide, and Anderson, right behind him yelling, “PAPA, PAPA, WE FOUND YOU!”

Before he could react, they crashed into him, hugging his legs with all the strength their tiny bodies could offer. And then, his heart stopped in the best way.

{{user}} were standing just a few steps behind them — his husband, looking every bit like home in that oversized hoodie he always stole, hair tousled from the wind, holding a snack bag and his favorite hoodie slung over {{user}}'s arm.