A billionaire… kneeling before a homeless woman.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
His voice broke.
“Did you… live in Chicago… about thirty years ago?”
Margaret froze.
Her trembling hands stilled.
“You… you know about that…?” she whispered.
The air seemed to stop.
For the first time in decades…
The past began to breathe again.
Ethan stared at her, his chest rising unevenly.
“Tell me…” he said, barely holding himself together. “Did you… have a son?”
Margaret’s lips quivered.
“Yes…” she whispered. “A long time ago… but I lost him…”
Ethan’s heart slammed against his ribs.
“What was his name?” he asked.
She closed her eyes, as if pulling the answer from a lifetime ago.
“His name was… Ethan.”
Everything disappeared.
The noise.
The crowd.
The city.
Gone.
Only that name remained.
A sob tore from his chest.
“It’s me…” he choked. “Mom… it’s me…”
Margaret stared at him.
Her eyes slowly widened.
“No…” she whispered. “That’s not possible…”
Ethan took her shaking hands.
“I got lost… in a crowded market… I was five,” he said through tears. “You were wearing a blue dress… you told me not to let go…”
Margaret broke.
A deep, aching cry escaped her.
“My boy…” she sobbed. “My Ethan…”
And then—
They embraced.