Vincent’s Perspective
The boy’s voice cut through the chatter like a blade.
“Don’t talk about my mom like that...”
For a heartbeat, I thought I had misheard. But then he stepped forward, shielding her with his thin shoulders, chin tilted up in defiance. My gaze landed on his face—sharp jawline, storm-dark eyes, the stubborn set of his mouth. Recognition slammed into me with such force that made my chest tightened.
He looked like me.
Not the man I was now, but the boy I had once been. His face carried mine, line for line, as though time itself had folded back and put my childhood in front of me again.
And then, when the younger one…Caleb…shifted closer to his brother, the resemblance struck again. His eyes, his posture, even the tilt of his head... they were mine too. Both of them bor
