Jason had been trying to move on, trying to forget the ghosts of his past, but the absence of his son was a wound that never healed. He had searched for them—his son and the boy's mother—but all the leads had gone cold. Years passed without any sign. They had truly disappeared from the map. Eventually, Jason accepted that he might never find them, though guilt had never really left him.

One morning, as he entered a small café in hopes of finding a moment of peace in his troubled life, something caught his attention. A boy, no more than ten years old, was standing at the entrance, peering into the store. There was something familiar about him—the dark hair, the cautious way his eyes scanned the environment. Jason couldn't shake that feeling, but he ignored it, trying to focus on his order.

He sat down, lost in his thoughts, but his eyes kept drifting back to the boy. The child was wearing worn clothes, with a red hoodie that was much too big for his small frame. Jason watched as the boy moved discreetly around the café, heading toward an empty table where there were scraps of food. In a quick movement, the boy grabbed a piece of bread and stuffed it into his pocket.

But this time, Jason didn’t hesitate. He quickly got up and went to the door, his gaze fixed on the boy, who was now outside, sitting on the sidewalk, eating what he had taken. Jason approached slowly, feeling his heart race. The boy, distracted by his food, didn’t notice him until Jason was just a few steps away.

When the boy finally looked up, his eyes met Jason's. The world around seemed to stop for a moment.