A woman approached me, recognizing me immediately. “You must be here for the special exhibit,” she said, gesturing toward a section of the gallery. “He’s been expecting you.”

I walked over, and there he was. It took me a moment to recognize him. Time had transformed the quiet, distant boy into a confident young man. His eyes, however, were unmistakable. They held a depth that spoke of experiences far beyond his years.

Our eyes met, and a wave of emotions crashed over me — guilt, regret, shame. The weight of those ten years bore down on me. He approached me with grace, a small smile playing on his lips, an artist’s calm.