Michael shifted his gaze back to Peter. “I can’t. I can’t just erase eighteen years of my life. I can’t erase the man who was everything to me—father, mother, friend. The man who stayed up all night when I was sick. Who read books to me. Who taught me to see the beauty in this world.” He looked directly into Peter’s eyes. “You did a terrible thing. You lied. You took my family from me. And I don’t know if I can ever fully forgive you for that. But I also know that without you, I wouldn’t even be here. You gave me my life. Twice. Once when I was born. And a second time when you pulled me back from the brink.”
Tears welled up in the old doctor’s eyes again, but he held them back.
“I can’t choose between you,” Michael continued. “I don’t want to choose. You…” he looked at Peter again, “are my past. And you,” he looked at the Colemans, “are my present.” He took a deep breath, as if making the most important decision of his life. “I want all of you to be my family. If that’s even possible.”
George, the stern colonel unaccustomed to sentiment, blew his nose loudly into a handkerchief.
“It’s possible, grandson,” he said hoarsely. “Anything is possible.”
Peter couldn’t utter a word. He just looked at his son, his boy, who had grown a lifetime in a few days and had proven wiser than all of them.
“And one more thing,” Michael said. “I want to go to Germany. For this operation.” He glanced at the medical documents George had placed on the nightstand. “I want to live,” he said simply. “Really live. I want to run, travel, breathe deeply. Not be afraid of every step.”
“We’ll go,” George said firmly. “All of us together.”
“No,” Michael shook his head. “Dad is going with me.”
For the first time since everything happened, he called Peter “Dad” again. And that simple word was more precious to the old doctor than any award or title.
“I need him there with me,” Michael continued. “As a doctor. And as a father. And you and Daniel will wait for us. Here. Deal?”
Daniel and George exchanged a look and nodded. At that moment, the room filled with sunlight. It broke through the clouds, and its bright, warm rays flooded the room, illuminating the faces of these four people—so different, with such complicated fates, who by a twist of fate and the wisdom of one eighteen-year-old boy were finally becoming a family.
Peter walked over to his son’s bed and took his hand.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“I should be thanking you, Dad,” Michael replied, his weak hand squeezing his father’s tightly.
This was the beginning of their new journey together. A journey toward healing, not just physical, but emotional. Ahead lay a complex surgery and a long recovery, but they were no longer alone. They had a family. A big, strange family, born from pain and lies, but a real one. And that was the most important thing.
The preparations for the trip to Germany took nearly a month. It was a time of hustle, hope, and anxiety. George, using his old connections and financial resources, handled the logistics. Peter immersed himself in medicine. He contacted the German clinic, translated Michael’s medical history, and consulted with colleagues. He was back in his element, and the work helped distract him from his heavy thoughts.
Daniel and Michael spent all their free time together. Daniel took a leave of absence from the university. They walked through the spring city, visited museums, and talked. They talked nonstop, trying to make up for eighteen lost years. Daniel discovered his brother’s world with amazement—a world of art, books, and quiet reflection. And Michael, in turn, was infected by Daniel’s energy and love for life. He started smiling more, and a new confidence appeared in his movements.
One day, the three of them—Michael, Daniel, and George—came to Peter’s house.
“We want you to move in with us,” George said without preamble. “We have a large house in the country, plenty of room for everyone. It’s not right for you to be cooped up in this house.”
Peter was taken aback…
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