Joe stood still, his hands buried deep in his coat pockets, his eyes scanning the car as it came to a stop. He looked older—more tired than the man Thomas remembered. The boys, still buckled into their car seats, were laughing about something, unaware of the storm gathering just outside.

Thomas stepped out slowly, his mind racing. The last time he’d seen Joe was at the hospital—storming out when Leah told him she was pregnant. Now, nearly six years later, he was back.

Joe raised a hand. “Thomas… I—I need to talk to you.”

Thomas’s jaw clenched. Every instinct told him to shut the door, turn the car around, protect the boys. But he didn’t. He stood still, listening.

“I know I don’t deserve to be here,” Joe began, voice shaky. “And I know I can’t undo what I did. But I found out—about Leah. About the boys. I was in a bad place back then. I wasn’t ready. But I’ve spent the past few years trying to fix my life. And now… I just want a chance to meet them. To know them.”

Thomas was silent. So many emotions collided—grief, anger, disbelief. But above all, he thought of the boys. The life he’d built. The nights he stayed up with them, the scraped knees, the first words, the lullabies sung through tears. Joe had missed all of it.

“I’m not asking to take them,” Joe added quickly, as if sensing the resistance. “I just… want to be part of their lives, if they’ll let me. If you let me.”

Thomas looked back at the car. Three little faces peered out the window, curious. They didn’t know the man standing on the sidewalk. Not yet.

He turned to Joe. “You don’t get to just walk back in. It doesn’t work like that.”

“I know,” Joe said, his voice cracking. “But I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Thomas exhaled. He didn’t have an answer—not yet. But the door to the past had opened, and with it, questions neither he nor the boys had ever prepared for.

To be continued…