We were still transitioning out of the terrible twos, so having a weekend away in the city with my husband was a well-needed treat. Sure, we were technically there for work, but we were excited for the exemplary line up of attendees, some presenters flying in internationally.

Owen grasped my hand as he led us through the crowd, aiming for the lecture hall on the far side of the building. Since my father’s health scare many years before, both of us had found a passion in working with stroke patients.

Hence Owen nearly pulling my arm out of its socket with how rushed he was. We didn’t want to miss a single second of the next lecture, and we were cutting it fine for time.

Slipping into the room at the last minute, we collected ourselves in the back row as the crowd quietened for the well-renowned guest speaker approaching the stage.

Although we were now seated, my heart rate continued to climb higher, my senses on high alert as if cautioning me to take heed of my surroundings.

That’s when my past came slamming into my present without preamble or remorse.

“You alright, baby?” Owen asked, picking up on my strained silence. I hadn’t noticed that my hand was still in his. Not that it would matter, as he would realise soon enough why I was nearly cutting off his circulation with my white-knuckled grip.

I tipped my chin to the front of the room, not trusting myself to speak. Owen’s eyes tracked where I signalled. Then, he went completely still.

The polished, sophisticated host mounted the stage—black hair, grey eyes, wide, welcoming grin. He was the physical personification of my son, Austin, just forty years older.

Strange tingling sensations riddled my skin. No matter how hard I tried, I was never able to find the handsome stranger who had fathered my boy.

Yet, after eleven long years, there he stood. Tall, proud, exuding confidence as he grabbed the mic to address the crowd.

Owen whispered, almost disbelieving. “No fucking way.”

“Thank you for joining me today, everyone,” the stranger said, his familiar accent coming out in full force. “My name is Leonardo Rossi, and I’m so privileged to be here with you all and share in my passion, vascular neurology.”

His introduction was interrupted when a door opened to the side of the stage and a beautiful woman walked through. She didn’t hesitate, instead giving a perfect, gleaming smile and climbing the stairs till she reached the podium, passing him a thick wad of papers.