Learning that Leo hated peas.
Learning that Maya now slept with the television on when she was worried.
Learning that neither of them was the person the other remembered.
But Ethan showed up.
Every time.
When he said seven, he arrived at seven.
When Leo had a school project, Ethan stayed until midnight constructing a cardboard volcano that accidentally erupted across Maya’s kitchen ceiling.
When Leo had a nightmare, Ethan sat outside his bedroom because Maya was not yet ready to let him stay overnight.
And when Maya became angry, Ethan did not disappear.
That mattered most.
Six months after Flight 417, they returned to Madrid.
The trip they had never completed.
This time, their aircraft landed without alarms, secret agents, remote systems, mysterious fighter jets or international conspiracies.
Leo considered the flight extremely boring.
Maya considered it perfect.
On their second evening, the three of them walked through Retiro Park beneath golden leaves.
