He stood in front of the door to his wife’s house for twenty minutes, his nerves frayed as he prepared to knock. Still dressed in the unmistakable orange jumpsuit of his recent imprisonment, he felt a mix of anxiety and resolve. The weight of his escape and the uncertainty of what awaited him pressed heavily on his mind.

As he scanned the neighborhood anxiously, the front door slowly opened, revealing his wife. The sight of her was both comforting and startling, leaving him momentarily stunned.

His eyes were drawn to the baby she held in her arms, and as he looked closer, the resemblance struck him with a jolt. The baby had his features—his eyes, his nose—making it clear that this was his son. The realization hit him like a wave, mingling disbelief with a profound sense of connection.

"Who’s that baby. Mine isn't right my love?", he asked, his voice trembling with a mix of wonder and concern.