The station looked exactly the same.
The same wooden bench stood beneath the old sign. The same familiar road stretched beyond the platform, winding its way back toward town. Even the same old clock hung above the entrance, ticking as though nothing had changed.
But when I stepped off the train, everything felt different.
Because I was different.
Victor was waiting for me, his hands tucked into his pockets and that familiar, steady smile resting on his face. For a moment, neither of us moved. He simply looked at me, as though trying to take in the fact that I was finally home.
Then he walked toward me slowly.
He didn't rush. He didn't need to.
When he finally pulled me into his arms, I closed my eyes and held on to him. His embrace felt like returning to a place I had never truly le
