Roger sat frozen, staring at the girl whose form shimmered and shifted before his eyes. Where a young maid had stood moments ago, there now appeared a figure he had long consigned to memory, a face he thought he would never see again.
Golden-blonde hair tumbled down to her slender waist, catching the light as if spun from the sun itself. Scarlet eyes—so achingly familiar—looked back at him, wide and nervous, yet carrying the same warmth he had once known. For a moment his breath stopped, his heart stumbling painfully in his chest.
Not because of her beauty.
But because of the face that collided with his memory—the one etched deep within him.
The hair brushing broad shoulders. The same sunset-colored eyes, once steady and kind. And above all, the smile that had guided him through boyhood.
"Roger?" A deep, calming voice seemed to echo from the hollow of his heart.
His eyes blurred as he staggered upright, clutching the armchair for balance. His lips trembled, his throat raw.
