The boy, who finally saw the man's face beneath the hood, stood frozen.
The suspicion in his gaze vanished instantly—replaced by utter disbelief. The man he thought might be a vagrant or criminal was... young. Much younger than expected. And far too striking to ignore. With sharp features and piercing blue eyes, he looked more like a celebrity than someone wandering the streets in rags.
Ace opened his mouth to speak but stopped as the front door swung open.
"Ace, who are you yelling at so late in the evening?"
The voice belonged to a man—tall, broad-shouldered, his expression drawn in faint irritation.
The boy flinched. "I-I was just... this guy was staring at our house for a long time. It felt weird, so I asked him."
The man's eyes shifted to Evrin, narrowing with caution. "Is that true?"
"It is," Evrin replied calmly. "But I had no ill intentions. I used to live in this house... a long time ago."
The man's frown deepened. "That's unlikely. We've owned this house for more than ten years and never rented it out... Wait—"
His voice cut off as realization dawned. He stared at the young man before him, properly this time—at his drenched blue eyes, the shape of his jaw, the faint familiarity in his features.
"No... it can't be..." the man whispered, stepping closer. His voice trembled. "Those eyes... are you—Evrin?"
Evrin blinked, surprised. "Yeah. That's my name. But... how do you know that?"
The man staggered slightly as a whirlwind of emotion hit him. Then, with an unsteady breath, he stepped forward and took Evrin's face gently between his hands.
"By the gods... it really is you. Evrin. You're alive... after all this time."
He pulled Evrin into a hug, his voice cracking, arms trembling.
Relief. Grief. Joy. It all poured out at once.
Evrin stood there, stiff in the embrace, unsure how to respond.
Ace watched in silence, trying to understand the scene unfolding before him.
After a long pause, Evrin asked, "Umm... do I know you?"
The man drew back slightly and let out a quiet, choked laugh. "Of course. It's been nearly twelve years... no wonder you don't remember me."
He smiled softly now, eyes still damp. "I'm Flynn. Your mother's younger brother."
Evrin's brows furrowed. "Uncle... Flynn?" The name sparked something faint, something buried.
He searched his memories—blurry scenes, faint voices—and slowly, a thread of recognition began to form.
****
Click—!
The front door opened again.
"Flynn! I'm home. What was that message about something urgent?" A warm, melodic voice echoed through the hallway.
A woman stepped inside, dressed in a crisp white coat, her expression puzzled.
Flynn approached her with a welcoming smile and wrapped his arms around her.
"Glad to see they let you leave early," he said softly. "Rough day?"
"Not particularly. But your message worried me. What's going on?" she asked, stepping out of the hug and scanning his face. Her eyes sharpened at the serious look that replaced his smile.
Flynn hesitated, then exhaled deeply.
"It's Evrin," he said.
Sophie froze.
A long silence stretched between them.
Then— "This better not be a joke, Flynn."
Her voice trembled, caught between anger and anguish.
Flynn shook his head. "It's not. He's here. Alive. I saw him with my own eyes."
She stared at him, trying to gauge his sincerity. Her expression began to crack.
For years, she had clung to hope. For months after Evrin's disappearance, she had searched tirelessly. But in the end... she had been forced to grieve.
Her eyes welled with tears.
"He's... really here?" she whispered.
Flynn nodded and opened the door to the living room.
"Yes. Come see for yourself. He's inside—"
But before he could finish, they both turned the corner and froze.
In the middle of the living room stood Evrin.
He was completely soaked and utterly naked.
Only his long hair—now grown out wildly over the years—cascaded down his back and front like a curtain, partially concealing him.
Evrin turned casually upon sensing them.
"Uncle Flynn, what should I wear?"
Flynn's face twitched. The question was asked with such innocence, as if the only issue here was clothing—and not the puddle of water forming beneath him.
"My bad," Flynn muttered, sighing. "Why don't you go back into the bathroom while I find you some clothes?"
Sophie covered her mouth, equal parts startled and stifling a laugh.
And with that, their long-lost nephew casually walked back, leaving the two adults wondering what kind of storm had just walked back into their lives.