I leaned toward him.
“I searched everywhere, Julian. You knew that.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“How did you meet Maya?”
“At work. We lived there until recently.”
“So after all those years away, you moved close enough to come home, and you still sent Maya to my door.”
“I couldn’t face you.”
I stood and approached him.
“I should’ve listened to what you wanted. But I would’ve answered your call. Every single time.”
He began crying.
When I reached for him, he held me tightly.
I’d imagined that hug for three years. I hadn’t imagined how much we still needed to repair.
“There’s something we need to do,” I told Julian that evening.
“What?”
“Update the missing-person report. People spent months looking for you.”
We called the investigator and arranged for Julian to confirm his identity. He also called the friend who’d sheltered him.
