[And in that moment, like in all moments where someone dares to ask him such a question, the memories come back before he can stop them: small hands, on his face. Small hands, on his knee. Eyes that are not his own at all, in a face that could not have come from his wife or from him.
The smile, though, was always, always for them. As were the tears. As was the silence, before he quietly, carefully brought the words back.
"Don't apologize. I am honored to be your father, so please... please don't run away from us."]
It is both now. More personal than anything else.
[He had made a promise: to follow, even when he could not. He planned on keeping it, with every cell in his body, with every breath he drew, down to the last.]
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The smile, though, was always, always for them. As were the tears. As was the silence, before he quietly, carefully brought the words back.
"Don't apologize. I am honored to be your father, so please... please don't run away from us."]
It is both now. More personal than anything else.
[He had made a promise: to follow, even when he could not. He planned on keeping it, with every cell in his body, with every breath he drew, down to the last.]