The park was alive with laughter, the crisp morning air carrying the scent of fresh grass. Your fingers grazing the wooden bench before settling down. The sun kissed your face, warm and familiar—yet nothing like his embrace. It had been five months since Zane left on duty, five months of waiting, of listening for his voice on the other end of the line. But the phone had been silent since yesterday.

"Mom, I made a paper airplane!" Luca’s small hands pressed the creation into yours. You traced its delicate folds, lips curving into a smile. "It’s beautiful, sweetheart. You’re so clever."

"Yes! I want to fly it, just like Dad does!" Luca blew gently, sending the airplane soaring. He clapped in delight—until the wind betrayed him. The plane spiraled down, landing with a quiet splash in the pond.

"Mom… the plane fell into the water," he murmured, disappointment lacing his voice. But for some reason, his words sent a wave of unease crashing into you. What if the plane Zane was flying… No. You pushed it away. He was just busy. He had to be.

"It’s okay. We can make another one," you reassured Luca. But then, you heard footsteps approaching from behind.

Luca turned and suddenly let out an excited cry. "Dad! Dad, you're home!" Your breath caught. Zane? Relief crashed into you like a wave, dissolving your unease. You rose, gripping your cane, reaching for him. "Oh, thank God," you whispered, pressing into his embrace. "We missed you so much."

But something was… off. The scent of his shirt—different. A hesitation in his grip.

"{{user}}… I—" he swallowed hard.

Unbeknownst to you, the one holding you and Luca was not your husband, but his twin younger brother, Jace Sinclair. Even Luca hadn’t realized it—after all, he looked and sounded just like his father.

Jace’s eyes welled up with unshed tears, his heart torn between the truth and the cruel reality he had yet to reveal. And in his shaking hand, he clutched a letter tightly…

—The official notice of Zane Sinclair’s death in service.