Adele
Charles was missing again.
It wasn't unusual — her little explorer had a talent for slipping past Nanny's notice and vanishing into the gardens like a shadow with soft footsteps and wild curiosity.
But today was different.
There were guests arriving, servants rushing about, laughter and carriages and distractions in every corner. The garden was sprawling, full of corners and quiet places — and too many places for her to imagine danger, no matter how lovely it looked in the golden light.
Adele stepped out of the salon mid-sentence, ignoring the worried call of her mother-in-law. Her silk skirts caught in the wind as she crossed the lawn, heart quickening.
"Charles!" she called gently, not yet panicked — but close.
She passed the rose arbor. The marble bench. The pear tree with the hollow trunk where he liked to hide. No answer.
And then—
A flutter of fabric. A flash of blue velvet.
Near the far gate, half hidden by climbing ivy, she saw him. Her son.
Safe. Laughing. Holding something in his small hands.
And beside him—
A man.
At first, she didn't believe her eyes. Her steps slowed.
She had seen ghosts before — memories wearing the shape of people, called forward by grief or longing. Surely this was one of them. A trick of light. A moment she'd dreamed a thousand times.
But the wind shifted, and the figure turned.
The way he moved, the tension in his shoulders, the quiet watchfulness in his stance — it all struck her like a chord plucked too hard.
Jason.
It wasn't a ghost.
It was him.
Adele stopped walking.
For a breathless second, she couldn't move.
Her lungs forgot air. Her heart pounded in her throat like it had broken loose. Her skin went cold, then hot, then numb. She pressed her hand to her stomach, steadying herself.
It had been three years.
Three years since he vanished.
No farewell. No explanation. Just the hollow silence he left behind.
She had forced herself to forget — no, to bury.
The feelings. The ache. The questions.
And now, without warning, it was all here again.
Alive. Breathing. Standing next to her son.
She took a shaky step forward.
Charles turned at the sound, face bright. "Mama! Look!"
He ran to her, waving something in his hand — a small fox carved from wood.
"He gave it to me!" he grinned, proud and unbothered, the way only a child could be. "He said he knew you!"
Adele dropped to her knees and pulled him into her arms, burying her face in his curls to hide the tremble in her lips.
When she looked up again, Jason was still standing there, a few steps away.
Not approaching. Not speaking. Just watching her — like he had waited a lifetime to do so.
His face was older. Shadows rested beneath his eyes. His jaw was sharper, beard dusted with travel and time. But his eyes…
His eyes were exactly as she remembered them.
Careful. Intense. Always listening, even in silence.
She rose slowly, keeping a hand on Charles's shoulder.
Her voice came out quiet, level, too calm for what she felt.
"You're back."
Jason's throat worked before he spoke. "I didn't plan to… not today. I just—"
Charles tugged at her skirts. "Mama, he's nice. Can he come to the party?"
Adele looked down at her son, smiling brightly — no idea what storm he'd walked into.
She smoothed his hair and nodded, her voice barely steady.
"Of course, my love. Any friend of yours… is welcome."
But her eyes never left Jason.
Because behind the composure, the smile, the calm voice she wore for her child…
Her heart was breaking open.
Again.