Henry doesn't stop pacing as he waits.
His steps are uneven, hurried at first, then slow and deliberate, tracing the same path over and over across the floor.
At some point, he decides to sit down next to Skye, trying to bridge the gap that has grown so wide between them.
He speaks softly, his voice careful, coaxing, yet Skye treats him like a stranger.
Every word, every movement he makes seems to bounce off an invisible wall, met with silence and avoidance.
Maybe that's what he is to his son, a stranger in the boy's eyes, distant because he has been absent for so long.
He was always consumed by his own problems, buried in work and responsibilities that left little room for family.
It's only now, in this quiet, tense moment, that he realizes just how much that absence has cost him.
Somewhere in his thoughts... It hits him suddenly, a jarring thought that cuts through the noise in his head: how did Riley get his number to call him that night?
He can't even ask Skye about it; the boy won't answer, won't meet his eyes. The refusal is piercing, and Henry feels a mix of guilt and helplessness that tightens his chest and twists his stomach.
Victoria lies on the couch, calm and unbothered, her presence an irritating contrast to his own frayed nerves.
Eventually, she rises with a casual stretch and says, "I'll take a quick shower, then I'll be back in a second." Her voice is flat, unhurried, and she drags herself upstairs.
Henry doesn't respond, knowing deep down that she probably won't actually come back, and even if she did, there's nothing she could do that would help.
Pulling out his phone, Henry moves to the side, distancing himself slightly, and calls his secretary again. "How urgent did what I asked for sound?" he asks the moment the man on the other end picks up, his voice tight but controlled.
"We're on the way, almost there, sir. Although I'm not sure it's the kind of person you want. He just graduated from high school and he wante…" His secretary begins to explain, but Henry interrupts quickly, unwilling to hear more.
"It doesn't matter, as long as he isn't underage," He says, his voice calm now, a slight relief passing over his features as he allows himself to hope for a solution.
Returning to sit beside Skye, Henry notices the boy hasn't moved from the spot he left him.
The tears have dried, the quiet settling over him like a fragile truce. "You… you want Riley?"
Henry asks, keeping his voice low, soothing, and careful.
For the first time, Skye looks up at him, and the gesture surprises Henry. The small movement, almost imperceptible, is a fleeting bridge between father and son.
Skye even allows Henry to touch him now, resting a hand lightly on his small arm. The realization hits hard: how can a child cry so desperately over someone he had only known for a few hours?
Or maybe he never just felt safe and cared for as much as Riley made him feel in those few hours?!
"He's on his way here," Henry continues, speaking softly, almost as if convincing himself more than his son. "He's going to be your sitter. You'll spend every day with him, and he will take care of you."
He reassures himself that Skye won't remember Riley's face well enough to compare it to another boy of that same age.
For a fleeting moment, He thinks he sees a small, tired smile on Skye's lips, cracked and dried from hours of crying.
The sight is fragile, fleeting, and he wishes he could make it last longer. He tries to coax him into speaking, but the boy remains silent, retreating once more into his own private world.
Minutes later, a knock comes at the door. Henry stands quickly, Skye following his movements a stagger..
For a brief second, Henry hesitates, praying silently that the person on the other side resembles Riley enough for Skye to accept him. He holds his breath, and then opens the door.
The disappointment hits immediately. The boy standing there is nothing like Riley.. way shorter, different in every detail that Henry had memorized. Riley was atleast : 179 cm, black hair messy around his face, Pale, almost porcelain skin that highlighted the sharp angles of high cheekbones. Almond-shaped eyes, framed by dark lashes, it held a steady piercing gaze.
Full reddish lips, the lower one gently rounded, that gave a quiet intensity to his expression, and his slender neck exposed...
Henry thinks back to all the small moments he had spent observing Skye and Riley sleep.
He realizes just how much he had taken in, how much he had memorized without noticing.
The difference is impossible to ignore. "Come in," he says, forcing himself to speak, but even as he opens the door, he sees Skye recognizing that this is not the person he expected. He watches him as he stares crying again.
Silently.
"Sorry to bother you, it looks like this is not going to work," Henry says to the two men standing nearby, exhaustion twisting his features and lacing his voice. "He had a boy babysitter who just left, and now he won't leave the floor," he continues, gesturing helplessly at Skye. "He's been crying all day long." Henry knows, with a heavy certainty, that he has lost his son's trust again for bringing him a different person from who he promised.
"I can bring him back for you now if you give details," Xavier, Henry's secretary, offers quietly and patiently.
"No, no thank you. I've bothered you enough already. I don't think I'll be at work tomorrow, so manage all the meetings I was scheduled for," Henry says, his voice strained, full of fatigue.
"Of course," Xavier replies calmly.
Henry glances at the boy beside Xavier, feeling the sting of guilt for raising the boy's hopes about a job he cannot provide now. Still, he speaks quickly, almost reflexively: "Find him a job at the company, even if it's just cleaning."
The boy's face lights up immediately. "Really?! Thank you, sir! Thank you so much, I will never disappoint you," he says, joy radiating so strongly that it almost chokes Henry. They head out, leaving Henry and Skye alone on the floor.
As Henry closes the door, his phone vibrates with a message from an unknown number. The screen reads: "You are welcome." Instantly, Henry realizes it is Riley.
He had deleted the number but didn't block it, and now the message reaches him. From morning this is when he replys..
Henry can't help but scoff at that thought.
But also, a warm feeling spreads through him at the sight of the message, though he forces himself to look away.
Without thinking, he calls the number. The first call rings once and goes unanswered. He silently prays that Riley will pick up the second time, and when the call connects.. Henry speaks immediately.
"Someone wants to talk to you," Henry says, voice unreadable.
"Someone?" Riley asks, confused, unsure of what he means.
Henry doesn't answer; instead, he walks over and hands the phone to Skye.